Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [72]
Tyndall had a firm rule for Niah when other crews came on board the Shamrock for social evenings—she must keep to herself in the main cabin. He instructed that she venture on deck only after the last of the visitors had left.
One evening she was sitting with her back against the main mast, her chin on hunched up knees, looking across the moonlit water. As she listened to the soft slap of water on the hull and the lazy rattle of the rigging, she could see that nearly all the boats had doused their lanterns, except the schooner Ambrosia run by ‘Wild’ Bill Leven. A waving lantern held over the side vaguely illuminated a tiny rowing boat into which a man was trying to clamber. There was a shout, a thump and a curse and then laughter from two men as the little craft rocked violently. After shouted slurred farewells, the boat zigzagged towards the Shamrock.
She sat still until the dinghy bumped alongside the rope ladder amidships and she saw Tyndall fumbling with the rope to secure the craft. Without a word she went to the side, leaned down and took the mooring line, holding it firm while Tyndall climbed clumsily aboard, missing his footing several times. He stumbled to the main cabin without a word, as if he hadn’t seen her.
After she had secured the dinghy astern she padded silently after him. In the dark cabin Tyndall was sprawled across his bunk, one leg and one arm hanging over the side.
Niah bent down and pulled off his plimsolls and socks, and as he opened a weary eye, she tugged at his shirt and, with some assistance from Tyndall, dragged it off. He watched her without saying a word as she leaned over him and unbuckled his belt, methodically undid the row of buttons and, taking the bottom of each trouser leg, slid off his pants. Tyndall tossed his undergarments to the floor and lay there naked, without moving or speaking.
Standing by the bed Niah looked down at him for a moment and gave a small satisfied smile, then undid the knot of her sarong and let it fall to the floor. A faint change of expression swept fleetingly across Tyndall’s face at the sight of the nubile golden body softly lit by moonlight through the portholes. Niah then laid her body gently on his and his outstretched arms tightened around her.
The Shamrock strained at its mooring, the wooden planks groaned gently and rigging quivered as it lolled in the arms of the sea and Niah sighed sensually in the strong arms of Tyndall.
In the morning Ahmed quietly boarded, got a steaming mug of black tea from the galley and went to the main cabin to wake the tardy skipper. In the hatchway he paused, seeing Niah sleeping snugly curled into Tyndall’s side.
Before he could retreat Tyndall opened his eyes, yawned and gave a small smile. ‘Leave the tea thank you, Ahmed. I’ll be up and about shortly.’
Ahmed nodded, his face impassive, and went up on deck and busied himself with bags of shell.
It was some time before Tyndall appeared, looking pleased with himself and surprisingly refreshed. He made no reference to Niah and, after calling for makan from the cook, heartily announced, ‘Today is the day I go below.’
Ahmed looked up in surprise. ‘Is this wise, tuan, when you have had such a … ’ Ahmed paused delicately, ‘such a night? Liquor in the blood is not good when diving.’
‘Slept that off,’ replied Tyndall cheerfully. ‘No, my mind is made up. Tell Yoshi, today he can rest on deck for awhile and I’ll go over the side. Only one way to find out what it’s all about. Can’t have these divers pulling the wool over our eyes and having us believe their fancy stories if I haven’t seen it for myself.’
Ahmed knew better than to protest. He nodded and rowed over to the Bulan to alert the crew that the skipper wanted to dive.
Tomoko Yoshikuri, the