Pearls

by Colin Falconer

  George raised an eyebrow. 'Who has it?'

  'One of my Manilaman divers. Or he used to be one of mine. Name of Espada.'

  'How did you find out about this?'

  'He was bragging about it. My daughter ... overheard him.'

  George pulled on his wispy blond moustache. Finally he took his chequebook from his drawer and picked up his pen. He wrote out a cheque and handed it to Lacey. 'The usual fee.'

  Lacey blew on the ink and folded the cheque carefully in his pocket. He stood up to leave. He detested George Niland and his fancy airs and he could never get out of the big office fast enough. Still, his money was as good as anyone's.

  'Not a word please, Lacey. This is private business.'

  'Yes, Mister Niland,' Lacey said. Why would he tell anyone Niland was buying snides? He wasn't going to kill the goose.

  ***

  Later that afternoon a Chinese called Huey Fong was ushered into George Niland's office. He was a squat, ugly man with hooded eyes and bad teeth. He wriggled on the hard, wooden chair, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

  'Do you know who I am?' George said.

  Huey nodded.

  'You were one of Lacey's divers, weren't you?'

  'I got the diver's paralysis, boss. In my leg.'

  'Yes, I know, quite a bad limp. I understand you can't dive anymore.'

  'No, boss. That's right.'

  'There are other ways to get pearls, Fong.'

  'Boss?'

  'You don't just find pearls underwater. Do you know a man named Simeon Espada?'

  'Yes, boss. I know him.'

  ''Is he a friend?'

  Huey squirmed again. 'Maybe,' Huey said, finally.

  George leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. 'Some men say you can't put a price on friendship. What do you think, Fong?'

  ***

  Simeon lay sprawled face down on his cot, drunk and snoring. He did not hear Huey Fong prised open the flimsy lock on his door. A shaft of light illuminated the room very briefly before Huey closed the shuttered door behind him again.

  Holding the jemmy above his head, Huey crept over to the bed and hit Simeon on the back of the head. The sleeping figure jerked and the snoring stopped abruptly.

  Huey set to work. Not much to search; a flimsy chest of drawers, half eaten through by white ants, the sailor's trunk in the corner. Nothing there.

  He tipped Simeon onto the floor and tore at the bedding. He found a hole in the mattress, shoved two fingers inside and found a red cotton handkerchief stuffed into the kapok. He pulled it and the pearl fell out onto the floor.

  He held it up to the light and sighed. Biggest pearl he had ever seen! He looked at Simeon, his body crumpled on the floor, limbs all twisted. He hoped he hadn't killed him. Still, a man loses a pearl like this, he'd wish he was dead. He laid a hand on his chest. No, still breathing.

  Shame for him. When he woke up he would be just another poor, crippled diver. Broome had its share. But that couldn't be helped, the pearl was too good for the likes of him anyway. He would only have let some white man cheat him out of it.

  Chapter 25

  Simeon opened his eyes. A cockroach scuttled across the wooden floorboards, just in front of his face. Holy Mother of God. Where am I? He tried to remember what had happened the night before. He remembered he'd had a few drinks at the Bosuns Regret. Perhaps he hadn't managed to make it as far as the bed.

  He tried to get up, and the world started to spin. He vomited painfully on the floor, retching until there was only bile in his stomach.

  His body felt as if it was covered in cold grease and his head felt twice its size. He put his fingers gingerly to the back of his scalp. There was a lump there, the size of an oyster shell. He must have fallen over last night. No wonder he felt so ill.

  He clung to the edge of his bed. The acid stench of his vomit was overpowering. What a mess.

  By the Holy Virgin.

  There was something wrong.

  He looked around the room. The drawers from the chest were scattered on the floor and his clothes had been throw around the room. The lock on his door was smashed and it was hanging half open.

  'My pearl,' he said and turned and saw the hole in his mattress. It had been ripped open with a knife and the kapok was everywhere. He plunged his fist into the mattress, knowing it was hopeless.

  It was gone.

  Simeon staggered into the corridor. Two old Malays, Ri and Mahmud, were on the stairs, smoking. They were crew on the Roebuck and their rooms were on the same floor as his.

  He grabbed Ri by the throat. 'Where is it?' he screamed at him.

  Mahmud jumped to his feet, too startled to do anything. Ri was making horrible noises and grabbing at the fingers around his throat. Simeon pushed him away and grabbed Mahmud instead, dragging him down the stairs by his shirt.

  'Where is it? What have you done with it?'

  Billy Ng, the owner of the Canton was standing in the hall, peering up at this commotion through the balustrades. 'What name?' he shouted in his hacking, high-pitched voice. 'What name you? Who fighting up there?'

  Simeon was sitting on Mahmud's chest, pummelling him about the head with his fists. Old Ri stumbled downstairs clutching at his throat. 'Get Sergeant Clarke quick time!' rasped at Billy. 'Simeon too much humbug! He for killim Mahmud finish!'

  Billy ran out of the door.

  Huey Fong ran out of his room on the second floor and wrestled Simeon off the old Malay just in time. Mahmud looked half dead.

  ***

  Huey Fong watched Sergeant Clarke and his two constables lead Simeon away. He was struggling and screaming threats at everyone. Huey went back to his room and put on a clean white singlet and trousers. Then he walked down Bitter Moon Lane to Dampier Terrace towards the Niland and Company offices.

  George Niland did not keep him waiting. He was ushered into the main office immediately on his arrival. Like an important man.

  As the door shut behind him George Niland held out his hand. 'You found it?'

  Huey smiled and handed George a matchbox from the deep pockets of his shorts. 'Right here, boss.'

  George peered inside and whistled softly, then he went to the safe and slipped the matchbox inside. He went back to his desk and took out his cheque book. 'Well done, Mister Fong.' He wrote out the cheque and handed it to him. 'I believe you will find that more than adequate compensation for your services ...'

  ***

  Siosuki Hanaguchi had had a good season. In one year with McKenzie he had made more money than he had ever seen in his whole life. He had bought himself a new white suit with gold sovereign buttons and a Malacca cane with a carved ivory handle. He wanted the whole world to know he was a number one diver now.

  He had lost a lot of money gambling the night before, but this morning, when he heard what had happened to Espada, his spirits lifted again. The news had spread around the town like wildfire; the Manilaman had gone crazy and tried to murder an old Malay at the Canton boarding house. The general consensus was that his tussle with the whale had made him crazy.

  Hanaguchi reckoned he still had a score to settle with him, and he wasn't going to let the opportunity slip by. That afternoon he and two of his friends went down Bitter Moon Lane to wait for Simeon to return from the lock-up. He knew Sergeant Clarke would not keep him in there long. If he tried to lock all the crazy divers in his jail he would have no room for criminals.

  ***

  Standing in Bitter Moon Lane, Siosuki noticed the looks they got from the Koepangers. There was a story going around about how one of the Japanese masters had keel-hauled a Koepanger on the Eliza Grace. He had heard some loose talk about a vengeance knifing.

  They were just cattle anyway, so sorry. They had no courage, no face. How did they expect to be treated?

  The heat didn't help anyone's temper. Even the seabirds crouched in the shade of the mangroves, beaks agape, too exhausted by the heat to fish.

  Siosuki dabbed at his fore
head with a white linen handkerchief. As he replaced his panama he saw Simeon shuffling towards them, his shirt bloodied and torn. Siosuki nudged one of his companions and said, loud enough for everyone around him to hear: 'Look at him, Camran-san's number one diver! These Manilamans all same! Two seasons and all they are good for is cooking rice!'

  Simeon did not see Siosuki until he heard the other Japanese laugh. He looked up and saw them dressed in their best white suits with their white men's hats and their canes, all swagger and arrogance. He realised they were mocking him.

  'What did you say?'

  'They say you see ghost in your bed last night. You dive too long, Manilaman? Steal too much shell. Make you go crazy in the head.' He made a face, showing the whites of his eyes.

  Simeon reached for his knife but Sergeant Clarke had taken it away from him in the lock-up. He turned, as if he was too beaten even to fight, then as soon as the Jappo let down his guard he rushed him, grabbing him by the throat. The ivory-handled cane clattered into the dirt.

  Siosuki's friends slammed their own canes into Simeon's ribs and head. Simeon screamed and retreated, his arms up to try and protect himself from more blows. Siosuki picked up his own cane and raised it two-handed, like a kendo sword. He smashed it down on the back of Simeon's skull and the Manilaman fell to the ground. Even as he lay on the ground, unmoving, the three Japanese continued to thrash him with their canes.

  Some Koepangers, crew from the Roebuck, had been watching from the steps of the Canton. They had crewed with Simeon for two seasons and they didn't like what they were seeing. They hated these Jappos even before they heard about the keel-hauling on the Eliza Grace.

  The Koepangers took them from behind, wrestling Siosuki and one of his companions to the ground. But the other Japanese managed to shrug off his attackers and started flailing wildly about him with his cane. One of the Koepangers fell back screaming, his eye hanging down his cheek.

  A knife flashed in the sun. The Japanese dropped the cane and sat down on the steps of the boarding house, gasping like a beached fish, fresh bright blood frothing from his clean white shirt.

  Meanwhile Simeon, almost blinded by his own blood, threw himself at Siosuki. The Japanese pushed him away and tried to run, realising now how the tide had turned. But two of the Koepangers caught him and threw him against the iron wall of the boarding house. Simeon's fingers closed around a broken wooden paling. He smashed it into Siosuki's face, and as the Japanese slid down the wall he hit him again.

  As he raised the stake to pummel him a third time, he heard police whistles, and saw Sergeant Clarke and his constables racing down Bitter Moon Lane for the second time that day. Simeon lowered his weapon, wiping the blood out of his eyes. Siosuki lay at his feet, his face a pulpy mess, like stewed eggplant.

  I've killed him, he thought.

  The Koepangers ran for the beach and he followed them.

  ***

  Rosie lay on top of Cameron. Their bodies were slick with sweat and her long hair fell across his face. She began to move her hips, very slowly. Cameron groaned, arching his back. She felt his body tremble violently. 'Oh Rosie,' he whispered. 'You're a wonder.'

  She lowered her head onto his chest.

  Cameron slowly became aware of the small trembling of her body. He opened his eyes and tried to pull her face towards him, but she resisted.

  'Rosie? What is it?'

  She did not answer.

  'Rosie, are you crying?'

  'For God's sake, stop it. I feel like such a fool.'

  'But what is it?'

  She slid away from him, and pulled a silk kimono around her shoulders. She took a tin of cigarettes from the bedside table and lit one.

  Cameron put a hand on her shoulders. 'What is it, lass?'

  'It's none of your damned business. You had what you came for. Just go.'

  'Rosie ...?'

  'Just go!'

  Cameron sighed, bewildered. He got up and started to put on his clothes.

  'Where are you going?' Rosie said.

  'You told me to go.'

  'For God's sake, I didn't mean it. What's wrong with you?'

  Cameron shook his head. 'What's wrong with me? I'm perfectly well, lass. I'm nae in tears and biting off heads.'

  Rosie went to the window. She leaned against the sill, watching the smoke from her cigarette spiral to the rafters. 'I'm going to have a baby,' she said.

  Cameron said nothing for a long time. Then he crossed the room and put both hands on her shoulders. 'Is it mine?' he asked her.

  'What would you do if it was?'

  'I could nae let you bring up a bairn on your own.'

  'Damn you.'

  'What have I said now?'

  'It's not your baby! I'm two months gone, according to Doctor Halloran. You haven't been back for lay-up more than four weeks.'

  'Then whose is it, Rosie?'

  'I don't know. If you sat on a bull ant's nest, would you know which one of them bit you?' Cameron tried to put his arms around her but she shrugged him away. 'Don't.'

  Cameron stood there, feeling as useless and ashamed as he had ever felt in his life. He thought about Kate. Why did he sail away from her that day? Why didn't he stay behind and try and explain what happened on Spring Moon Street?

  'What are you going to do?'

  'I don't know.'

  'If I can help, lass ...'

  'What can you do?'

  'If you need money ...'

  'Cam, I'm not your responsibility. I'm a whore. It's what happens to whores who aren't careful.'

  'You're nae a whore!'

  'Then what am I?' She went to her dresser and pulled a tobacco tin from one of the drawers. 'Here.'

  'What is it?'

  'It's money.'

  'What do I want with your money?'

  'It's yours. Every penny you've ever left on the dresser. I've not touched it, Cam. Not a penny of it.'

  'I do nae want it.'

  'Take it! Take it so I won't be your whore! The rest of them, I won't even let them kiss me. But I don't want ... I don't want you to think of me that way. Take it!' She thrust the tin into his hands.

  'I do nae understand.'

  'Yes, you do. All you ever think about is that Niland woman.'

  'What I did to her was wrong. I told you that.'

  'Well, you can't change it and you can't turn back the clock.' She wiped away the wetness on her cheeks with the back of her arm. 'You're obsessed.'

  'Aye well, that's always been a fault of mine.'

  'Don't smile like that.'

  'I cannae help it. You're right.'

  Rosie turned back to the window and threw the remains of her cigarette into the street. She stood there for a long time, her arms folded. 'What's that noise?' she said finally.

  'Lass?'

  'Can you hear it?'

  Cameron went to the window. Yes, he could it hear it now, too, a faint murmur, like distant thunder. But it wasn't thunder; it was voices, hundreds of them, and it was coming from Chinatown. Cameron leaned further out of the window and could see crowds spilling onto Dampier Terrace.

  'Christ,' Cameron said.

  He threw on the rest of his clothes and rushed out of the door.

  ***

  The Christmas ball had been a subdued affair. The town was unusually quiet for a Christmas Eve. There had been trouble in the Chinatown that day and a Japanese had been killed in a knife fight with some Koepangers. The native quarter was a tinderbox and the whites were bracing themselves for trouble. The Christmas Ball had been a subdued affair, a lot of the Europeans had decided to stay home while others, like the Nilands, left early.

  George and Kate sat in the back of the Buick, Jamie between them, Kendo at the wheel, driving carefully through the deserted streets. As they turned onto Dampier Terrace a mob suddenly appeared in front of them, blocking the road. Kendo slammed his foot on the brake.

  'Koepangers!' George murmured.

  Kate put her arm around Jamie.r />
  'What's wrong?' Jamie said and tried to peer out for a better view.

  'Hush,' Kate said. The mob milled around the car. Many of them, Kate saw, were holding clubs or knives. Their leader pointed at Kendo.

  George fumbled with the door of the Buick and jumped out. He walked towards the Koepangers, shooing them with his hands as if they were a mob of unruly sheep. 'That's enough, bimeby! Me big white Niland boss! You go now!'

  The mob fell silent but did not disperse. George tried to push one of them back but he stood his ground.

  George wagged a finger in his face. 'You! You tell all everybody go now or there be big trouble! You savvy?'

  The man stared sulkily back at him. He rubbed the long blade of his knife against the fabric of his khaki shorts and looked at Kendo.

  Kendo turned round in his seat and pointed. There were more Koepangers behind them now.

  Kate put a hand on his shoulder. 'It's all right,' she said. She got out of the car, pulling Jamie after her. She opened the driver's door. 'Now stand directly behind me,' she said to Kendo. 'No one will hurt you but you must do precisely as I say.'

  'You go now!' George was shouting. 'Bimeby you get damned big trouble! Me white Niland boss!'

  The leader of the Koepangers, a lean, surly man with a hare lip, advanced on George. George retreated. Emboldened, he kept coming . A murmur went through the mob and they closed in behind him.

  George turned and ran. The crowd parted to let him go.

  ***

  Kate stared at the ring of faces. The only sound was the hissing of the kerosene lanterns that several of the mob had brought with them. Kendo was babbling something in Japanese, perhaps a prayer to his ancestors. She hoped they were listening. He would need them right now.

  Jamie suddenly tore away from her and aimed a kick at the Koepanger with the hare lip. Kate caught his arm and pulled him back. But the man retreated a few steps, astonished.

  Kate wrapped her arms around her son, torn between protecting Jamie and loyalty to Kendo. She was damned if she was going to leave him to this mob.