Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [74]
Yoshi thought Tyndall was taking an unnecessary risk. He had no need to go down. It was a decision that he had not expected from his new boss, and it worried him. He thinks it a bit of a game, reflected Yoshi as he sipped at a small blue china mug of warm tea. Taki his tender had brought it to him with a raised eyebrow and a nod toward Tyndall who was wrapping himself in layers of flannel while Ahmed fussed with the diving suit. Niah, in a sarong, sat on the aft gunwale, smiling at Tyndall’s comic antics as he pulled on layers of clothes to combat the cold below.
‘Yo, ho, ho, Yoshi,’ shouted Tyndall in good humour. ‘I’m ready to don the suit of the finest and bravest diver in the nor-west. How do I look?’
Everyone on deck, including the Malays, looked at Tyndall with inscrutable faces. Tyndall knew he looked ridiculous—a tall pole of a man wrapped in multicoloured layers of long Johns, strips of flannel sheets, several undershirts and pairs of long socks, none of them matching. But nobody smiled, except Niah, who broke into a giggle which she smothered with a hand, earning a wicked wink from Tyndall.
Ahmed and Taki helped Tyndall into the bulky canvas and rubber diving suit and then laced up the heavy lead-weighted boots, and pulled on the gloves. Yoshi kept a professional eye on every detail, without moving from his squatting position on the roof of the cabin. Only when the team prepared to put on the helmet did Yoshi move and take his place beside Tyndall. Yoshi watched carefully as the corselet of brass and copper was guided over Tyndall’s head and screwed to the reinforced neck of the suit. A coir rope was tied around his waist within easy hand reach to signal Taki from below and for Taki to signal him.
Yoshi spoke at last. ‘Breathe slowly. Never panic. Concentrate on the job. No time to look around pretty place. Look where you put feet all time. Remember, one pull, more air, two pulls, slack off line, three pulls help quick smart. Three pulls from topside, you come up quick time.’ They rehearsed the routine several times, Tyndall feeling increasingly uncomfortable and sweaty in the suit.
Ahmed grinned. ‘No work today, boss. You just look around at pretty places.’ He knew it would annoy Yoshi, but the Japanese diver showed no reaction.
‘No, Ahmed, it’s not a holiday. I’ve got to come up with something, or I’ll be the laughing stock of the whole coast.’ He took a couple of steps toward the ladder, then paused. ‘Hey, shouldn’t we have a ceremony or something?’
All divers were superstitious and most carried lucky charms, prayed before diving or conducted some small personal ritual before sinking through the fathoms to the sea bed. They made countless dives, but knew each one could present some terrible accident that could claim their life. Yoshi carried a miniature red torii, the simple two uprights crossed at the top by two horizontals which was a powerful symbol of Shintoism. The first tales he had heard of pearl diving were accounts highly coloured about devils that lurked beneath the sea. There were so many beliefs and customs. One must always bow before silver fish in a bowl. Two fish fighting meant sharks were around. It was not good of the master to joke about such things before a dive.
Niah leapt off the rail and ran to Tyndall, taking off her carved pearl shell pendant as she moved. Niah dropped it over his head, pushing it inside the suit. He glanced at the carving, and smiled into her eyes. It was a good omen, he told himself, though he was not sure why. The spontaneity of the gesture pleased him.
The copper helmet was lifted and placed over his head and locked into place on the metal collar. The glass panels in the helmet had been rinsed with sea water to prevent them steaming up with his breath, and these too were locked shut.
Lifting his hand in salute, Tyndall stepped