Tears Of The Moon Part 18

He heard some movement in the staff quarters and called the amah. 'Rosminah, where has Niah gone?' he asked.

'Walkabout, tuan.'

'Round town? When is she coming back?'

'Gone big walkabout. Said she goin' to see her people. Take Maya her country.'

Tyndall was stunned for a moment. 'What do you mean walkabout?'

When the full impact sank in, Tyndall sat with his hands hanging between his knees. He now saw how he had neglected Niah and even Maya and had been too absorbed in the business. He didn't blame her for seeking family contact. But he missed them and hoped they would soon be back, for this was their home.

Olivia found him, hungover and morose, at the camp the next day. She made him strong tea. 'Perhaps Niah was jealous at us taking Hamish away. She's been a bit reserved lately. And now she's found her tribal family it's only natural she'd want to take Maya to them, for a visit,' said Olivia, trying to explain the situation rationally.

'She's my my daughter, too. She really doesn't belong out there.' daughter, too. She really doesn't belong out there.'

'How can you be sure, John?' said Olivia, hating to see the misery in his eyes and feeling a little bit guilty that perhaps it was because of her that the situation had developed in this way. 'You can only wait.'

Tyndall gazed at Olivia sadly. 'You're right, of course. And there's not a d.a.m.ned thing I can do about it. But wait.'

Olivia poured his tea and hoped Niah would be sensible and not stay away too long. She'd heard of some Aborigines going walkabout for six months or more. 'At least we know she's in safe hands.'

Tyndall didn't answer.

In the weeks that followed, Niah discovered her extended family, the rituals, the sacred sites, the stories and sense of kins.h.i.+p. The tribe embraced Maya and in a simple but moving ceremony performed by the women, the young girl was welcomed into the extended family of the clan and given a sh.e.l.l pendant. The small curved sh.e.l.l had the same carved pattern as her mother's. No matter where she went in life Maya had a link with previous generations and a place of belonging.

The old women adored the beautiful girl and entertained her, singing and showing her endless patterns made from twine twisted between fingers. It was a time for both mother and daughter to learn their language and culture.

Niah relaxed and felt comfortable leaving Maya with the old women while she went hunting and gathering food with the other women and young girls. There was much to learn.

One day after they reached the coast Niah felt a need to be on her own. She found herself thinking a lot about Tyndall and Broome. While the others collected oysters and sh.e.l.lfish, Niah clambered over rocks to a deserted inlet. She wandered idly for a short time kicking at the sand, then sat and stared out to sea. Somewhere across the ocean was the island where she'd grown up and where her other family lived. She remembered how her grandmother had sat and told her the story of the land across the sea. It had been a long time ago and Niah's mother told her stories of how her grandmother had sailed back over the sea to visit, returning with gifts and stories of the great welcoming ceremony for her. Niah, by inadvertently returning to the home of her grandmother, felt she had completed the circle.

Deep in thought she didn't hear the footfall behind her. An arm grabbed her around the throat and her arms were swiftly pinned behind her back.

'Got you!' The grinning face of Karl Gunther leered close to hers. 'What a pleasant surprise, my pretty. What are you doing up here?'

'I, I, I come with Tyndall,' she stammered frantically.

'Oh yeah? And where's 'is boat. I'm moored around the cove, there ain't any other boats 'ere.' He dragged her to her feet.

Niah tried to scream but he clamped his hand across her mouth. 'Now, now. Don't make a noise. Or I'll hurt you real bad. You're comin' with me.'

He dragged her, kicking and struggling, along the sand. She bit and scratched until he gave her a solid backhander and she went limp. Slinging her over his shoulder, he hurried along the beach.

Niah came to in the dim cabin of a boat. She could tell by the sound and movement that they were getting under way and she struggled to rise, but found she was tied by her ankles, the rope looping up to tie her hands behind her back. She attempted to cry out but a rag had been tied across her mouth. Her frantic heavings sent her cras.h.i.+ng to the deck where she lay bruised and sore. A black cloud of fright and despair descended on her.

Once the boat was under way, Gunther appeared and yanked her upright. 'So, you fell. Dear me.' His voice dripped facetiously. He flung her back on the bunk. 'Stop fightin', woman. There's no point. Be nice 'n' things may go easier for you.'

She lay there, her eyes burning with anger as she watched him fuss around the cabin. He then threw her one last look and a leering grin. Niah thought longingly of her child-at least she was safe, but her urge to get off this boat and get back to Maya overwhelmed all other feelings.

Hours pa.s.sed. She felt faint with hunger and thirst. Gunther returned and yanked the cloth from her mouth, loosened her hands and gave her water which she gulped greedily. She sat and glared at him.

'Don't give me the evil eye. You wanna get on in this life, you be nice to me.' He flicked a finger under her chin and Niah resisted the impulse to poke a finger at his eye. He tied one of her hands to the ankle rope.

The cook delivered a plate of rice with a few strips of dried fish on it and turned away. Niah spoke swiftly in Malay but he didn't reply. She ate with one hand and waited.

Gunther came to her, drunk, later that night, forcing her back on the thin coir mattress of the bunk. He pulled out a knife, casually slit her sarong and flung it away. Grinning in the lantern light he drew the knife around her nipples and slowly ran it down her chest and belly to her pubic hair where he held it as their eyes locked. Niah remained motionless.

'That's the girl. No point in fighting me now,' he slurred. He reached down and slit the rope binding her ankles, kicked her legs apart and held the knife threateningly above her. Niah didn't move. Gunther dragged off his trousers and flung himself on top of her, fumbling and groping, his rum-soaked breath almost smothering her.

Niah kicked out with her legs, pulling up her knee and thrusting it in his groin, making a grab for the knife with her free hand. Her movements were swift and strong and they both rolled to the floor, Gunther gasping in pain. They fumbled for the knife, Gunther having dropped it in the fall. Both their hands fell on it and he swung it, slicing downwards towards her neck. Niah twisted and felt it hit her shoulder, cutting deeply. She swung her free elbow, smas.h.i.+ng it into Gunther's teeth then, grasping the knife, she turned it back on him. He yelled in pain and rolled away from her and in that second she staggered to her feet and raced up to the deck.

A lantern swung from the rigging and the crew, sitting and eating their meal, glanced up in astonishment. No one moved or spoke as the bleeding, wild-eyed, naked girl stood before them trailing rope looped around her feet and wrists. In that split second Niah knew she could expect no help from these men. Hearing Gunther cursing and cras.h.i.+ng his way up on deck, she turned and dived over the side of the lugger.

She sank through the dark water, holding her breath, kicking her legs free of the rope, then swam until she was forced to the surface to take a breath. Treading water, her heart pounding, gasping for air, Niah looked around. The moon was obscured by clouds, so it took her a few seconds to adjust to the dark night. Then she made out the shape of Gunther's lugger, its lights glowing faintly, the distance between them growing as she watched. She turned around and saw the coastline, thankfully not an impossible swim away. But fear clutched at her as she struck out, knowing sharks infested the waters. She doubted whether Gunther would look for her, knowing as she did that he was wounded and it would be an impossible task with no moonlight to guide him.

Her childhood spent in the waters about her island home stood her in good stead. Although she swam strongly, she still needed to rest often. But thankfully she could feel the current drawing her towards the sh.o.r.e.

She had no idea how long she spent in the sea, but eventually could hear the surf and suddenly there was a rush of water and her legs were raked by sharp needles as she was washed on to a coral reef. She tucked her legs up and with a few strong strokes got herself over the reef to calm water.

She could see a white strip of beach and soon her feet hit the bottom and she tripped, crawled out to the sand and lost consciousness from fatigue and loss of blood.Dawn found the naked girl still unconscious, her limbs covered with congealed blood from many cuts. Blood trickled from the knife wound in her shoulder. As the morning began to heat Niah became conscious and raised herself to her knees. She was weak but knew she must move to find shelter. Staggering into the sand dunes and scrubland, she found a small waterhole and threw herself down to drink. She then peeled a large piece of paper bark off a tree and using it to shade herself she set out to follow the creek upstream following a well-worn track.

Just as she thought she could drag herself no further, Niah saw several small shacks and behind them a large white tower. At the same time a black girl and boy came along the path, squealed in shock at seeing her, turned and ran.

Niah called to them, then sank to the ground and pa.s.sed out.

Niah opened her eyes and found she was on a small bed in a white cell-like room. A black cross hung on one wall and sunlight and a soft breeze came through a window, framed by open wood shutters. Turning her head, she saw a white man sitting beside the bed, smiling kindly at her. He was wearing a long dark robe. A mug was offered to her and the man helped her sip the cool broth. It gave her some strength and she looked down and saw that she was dressed in a white s.h.i.+ft or s.h.i.+rt of some kind. Realising that her shoulder was bandaged, she tried to lift her arm on that side of her body but found it would not respond. Suddenly she felt hot and then began s.h.i.+vering. Fear gripped her, but the man spoke gently to her, his accent different from the white men she knew in Broome.

'I am Brother Frederick. This is Beagle Bay, don't be frightened. You are very sick. Rest now. Later you try to eat, yes?'

Niah fell back and closed her eyes.

For three days she battled the fever and infection from the deadly coral that had poisoned her. She had lost a lot of blood and Brother Frederick spent a long time praying for this native girl who was so desperately ill. Niah was too weak to speak except once to utter one word in reply to his asking her name-'Niah,' she whispered.

As the days pa.s.sed, Niah's hold on life slipped further and further from her grasp.

Finally Brother Frederick lifted Niah from the bed and carried her across the sandy ground to the whitewashed mud-brick church. Inside it was cool and dim. He went to the altar, put Niah on a mat, lit candles, knelt beside her then raised his arms in supplication.

'Dear Lord, bless this heathen, take her into thine almighty kingdom and shower her with love and thy blessings. Let her life not be in vain!'

Niah opened her eyes and saw the candle-lit altar s.h.i.+ning with inlaid mother-of-pearl. A brief smile touched her dry lips and feebly she lifted an arm towards the priest. Brother Frederick looked at her and followed her eyes to the mother-of-pearl sh.e.l.l pendant and knew she had found some recognition or made some connection with the pearl sh.e.l.ls on the altar. Then her head fell back and she died quietly in his arms.

Brother Fredrick buried her in the small graveyard near the church.

On her grave he added a simple headstone into which he had set the sh.e.l.l pendant with clay and lime paste. The strange pattern puzzled the Brother, but he sensed it was symbolic and meaningful.

Brother Frederick made a note of the event in his journal and never mentioned it again. Life and death were like leaves falling from a tree to him.

A long way down the coast, the tribal women saw Gunther's boat with its black hull and dark red sails move away. In the sand they read the signs of a struggle and found Niah's digging stick. The s.n.a.t.c.hing of Aborigines was not unknown but the women were deeply distressed. They sent word along the coast to watch for the strange boat and rescue Niah.

The women took Maya with them, she was part of their family and they all cared for the little girl, sharing food and love with her as they travelled across the land, all hoping for the day Niah might return to them.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

With the absence of Niah and Maya, Tyndall swung from depression, to anger, to rum-soaked pity. He took to heavy drinking bouts to try and obliterate the emptiness in his life and his inability to wrench back his daughter from the remote desert country. He cursed Niah for her defection but blamed himself.

Olivia was patient and tried to be understanding. But then, recalling the firm stance Tyndall had taken with her during her own crisis, she confronted him.

He was slumped back in his chair, unshaven, the inevitable bottle on his desk beside a jumble of papers, his skipper's hat and a toy lugger which Maya had always played with. He glared at Olivia when she walked in.

'You have your do-gooders face on,' he said bitterly.

'Now, John, this isn't doing you any good. You can't drown your sorrows, you're only harming yourself.'

'How original. Stop preaching.'

'Look, I don't care what you do in private, but falling around drunk in Sheba Lane bars and your sloppy att.i.tude is threatening the company. The crews are starting to play up and Yos.h.i.+ and Ahmed have had to break up several fights with our men. A quarter of the fleet have already left and we're still messing around at the foresh.o.r.e camp.'

'How do you know what I get up to?'

'It's a small place, or had you forgotten? What you do is all over town in a minute. People are laughing at you, John. Don't let them think you've gone to pieces because your mistress has run out on you.'

His eyes narrowed. 'Is that what they're saying?'

Olivia nodded.

'So tell them to get knotted.' He pushed the toy lugger off the desk with a sweep of his arm, reached for the bottle and swung around in his chair, his back to Olivia.

'You are being very boorish, John. And downright rude,' she snapped.

He ignored her, and took another drink from the bottle.

Olivia leaned across the desk, grabbed his shoulder and forcefully spun him around in the swivel chair to face her. Hushed with anger she shouted, 'John Tyndall, you're ... a ... an ill-mannered oaf.' She turned and stomped out of the office, leaving a stunned and silent Tyndall clutching his bottle and feeling more than a little embarra.s.sed.

Olivia sighed with frustration and went down to the sh.e.l.l shed and looked for Ahmed. He and Yos.h.i.+ had taken it upon themselves to start loading the Conrad and the Shamrock.

'You tell tuan we got to go?' he asked.

'I did. Don't know that it had much effect. He's drinking. And he's mad.'

'No can wait for Niah come back. We gotta get up the coast quick smart. Mebbe we shanghai skipper and leave.'

Olivia gave a faint smile. It was the best suggestion to date.

Ahmed studied her for a moment, then asked, 'You think Niah come back with Maya?'

'Yes, Ahmed, I do! It's only natural she went. She wanted to see her people, and the Captain hadn't been paying her a lot of attention.'

Ahmed saw the fleeting guilty expression in Olivia's eyes. 'Tuan got many troubles and too much business. Niah want everything to be round Niah. She bored. She be back at end of season and everything be number one again.'

'I hope you're right, Ahmed. Is there any news of Captain Evans?'

'No, mem. No worries. He at sea, working. Soon need supplies from tuan.'

Without saying so, both Olivia and Ahmed were glad their new white skipper was unaware of Tyndall's state.

Thomas Evans was born and educated in Liverpool, but put to sea as a lad before the mast on the Sinclare Line. Eventually he worked his way up in s.h.i.+ps trading to India and Australia. The lure of gold and dreams of a fortune attracted him to the Marble Bar goldfields. He made no fortune and missed the call of the sea, so returned to Broome and skippered luggers. A quiet and sober man, he was a mason of Roebuck Lodge No. 56 and had known and respected Conrad Hennessy.

Consequently, Tyndall and Olivia had been delighted when Evans accepted their offer to skipper the Annabella Annabella.

Now if only Tyndall would come to his senses and focus on the business at hand, thought Olivia. She could understand him missing Maya and his frustration at not being able to reach them. She decided he needed a diversion and to heal the wounds of their recent falling out she sent him an elegant handwritten invitation to dinner.

He confronted her at the foresh.o.r.e camp, producing the invitation card from his pocket.

'What's this, Olivia? What's the occasion?'

'Dinner, John. Please come, let's say it's a bon voyage and to wish Star of the Sea a good season.'

'I hate stuffy dinner parties. All that wah-wah chit chat. Can't stand 'em.'

'I'd really like you to be there. Please.'

'I might disgrace myself. Insult someone's wife, tell off a stuffed s.h.i.+rt, drink too much.'

'You can be fiendishly charming and beautifully mannered on occasion. Don't be late,' she said brightly, ignoring his gruff grunt as she left him, her fingers secretly crossed.

He arrived a little late, deliberately, but was decked out in his formal whites to please the hostess. At the gate it occurred to him that it seemed uncommonly quiet for a dinner party venue. There were no sulkies belonging to other guests and he wondered if he had got the time or date wrong. He fumbled in his pockets for the invitation card but realised he had left it at home. So he climbed the steps and was greeted by Minnie with a large smile.

'You on deck duty tonight, eh, Minnie?'

'Just little time. Help cook, then go home.'

Tyndall walked into the dining room and stopped in astonishment.

The table was set for two. Candles and flowers in the centre flanked by the best china and crystal. Olivia, dressed in a flattering gown of soft material in pale pink, her hair prettily coiled to one side of her head came to him with a mischievous smile.

For a moment Tyndall was at a loss for words. 'Where are the other guests?'

'Seems it's just the two of us,' she smiled. 'Sit down, John. I wanted my respected business partner-and friend-for company. He's been missing lately.'

'You tricked me. I don't like that.' His tone was affable.

'You wouldn't have come otherwise and we need to talk.'