Pearls

by Colin Falconer

  'Go home!' she shouted. 'Kendo b'long me!'

  Where was George? Surely he hadn't just run off? He couldn't have, it was unthinkable. She looked around desperately for other whites to come and help her. No one.

  The Koepangers closed in again.

  'That's as far as you go, boys,' a voice said.

  A white man pushed his way through the crowd, one of the Koepangers in front of him, a revolver held against his head. When he reached Kate he shoved the man onto the ground and immediately trained the revolver on the mob's leader.

  'Back off now, or I'll splatter your brains all over the road.' Cameron pulled back the hammer and the click of the hammer resounded in the silence like a rifle shot.

  'Cameron,' Kate said.

  'Where's George?'

  'He's ... he's not here.'

  'I can see that, lass. But where is he?'

  'Darwin, by now, I should think.'

  Cameron swore softly under his breath. 'Get into the car,' he said. Then he took a step forward and pressed the barrel of the gun into the Koepanger's nose. The man squeaked in fear and stepped back. 'Now you'll make way for the lady like a good gentleman or I'll blast a highway through the middle of your skull. Do you understand me now, man?'

  The Koepanger nodded.

  Kendo scrambled back into the driver's seat, while Kate pulled Jamie in alongside him. Kendo's hands were shaking so violently he could barely grip the wheel. He revved the engine of the Buick, waiting for Cameron.

  'Well, do nae hang around here, man. Off with you!'

  Kendo engaged first gear with a teeth-jarring grinding of metal. The Buick jumped forward and the mob spilled back.

  'Jump in!' Kate shouted.

  'I'll catch the next tram,' Cameron said.

  'Wait!' Kate shouted but Kendo recognised his opportunity. The Buick lurched forward and the crowd fell back. He sped through them and roared away through the mud.

  Kate twisted around in her seat. The tall figure in the white Panama hat was swallowed up by the night and the mob of brown faces.

  Chapter 26

  Patrick Flynn leaped from the sulky and ran up the path, George and Sergeant Clarke hurrying behind him. 'Kathleen! Dear God, if anything's happened to my girl ... Kathleen!'

  Kate glided onto the veranda with the dignity of a queen. Flynn bounded up the steps and hugged her. 'Kathleen! Thank God!'

  She pulled away. George could not meet her eyes. Sergeant Clarke just looked embarrassed. He must have surmised what had happened.

  She turned back to her father. 'How did you know I would be here?'

  'We didn't, we just hoped you'd made it home all right ...' Flynn stared at George. Then the words came out in a torrent. 'I was at the police station being sworn in. There's riots everywhere, Sergeant Clarke recruiting all the whites as special constables. Then George came in and said the Koepangers had knocked him down and carried you off. We searched everywhere, then we saw McKenzie ...'

  'Cameron?'

  'He said you were all right. He said Kendo had driven you home.'

  'Cameron's all right?'

  'Sitting by the side of the road smoking a cigarette, damn his eyes. And there we were needing every white man in town at the police station. Skiving off as usual. Thank God you're all right. What happened, girl?'

  'Cameron saved my life.'

  'How? What happened? George said that ...'

  She pushed past her father and went down the steps. George still would not look at her. 'You coward,' she said.

  'There was nothing I could do.' He looked at Clarke, who was inspecting a piece of lint on his uniform. 'I knew you'd come to no harm. Just calm down.' He had the temerity to try and embrace her and she pushed him away.

  'You ran away!'

  'For God's sake! There was nothing I could do! I knew they wouldn't harm you! I had to get help for Kendo!'

  Kate leaned close to his ear. 'If you had shown for just one moment that you possessed a grain of decency I think I could have forgiven you for these last six years.' She turned on her heel and went back up the steps. The screen door slammed behind her.

  Flynn stared at him. 'George? What was all that about?'

  'I don't know. She's hysterical.'

  George climbed into his sulky. 'Sergeant Clarke! We have work to do! Are you coming or will you let a few natives burn the town down around our ears?'

  ***

  After they had gone Kate went out to the back veranda with the gin bottle. She drank a glass straight. It was foul. Still, it was good for settling the nerves.

  She saw a cigarette glow in the darkness.

  'Aye, it's me.' He stepped out of the shadows and walked up the steps. He stopped, one foot on the veranda. 'I came to see you were all right.'

  She did not know what to say to him. After all these years, there he was. She could hardly believe it was real.

  'Well, I can see you're nae harmed. I probably should nae have come. Goodnight.'

  'Wait.'

  He turned around.

  'I owe you my life. And my son's.'

  'You owe me nothing, lass. George was right. They would nae have harmed you. They were after your houseboy. The Koepangers are an ugly bunch when they're riled but they would nae hurt innocent women and children.'

  A long silence. He scuffed the step with his boot.

  'I thought they were going to kill you.'

  'Would that have mattered to you, still?'

  A part of her wanted to run to him; another part of her wanted to run inside and lock all the doors.

  'As soon as you drove away I put the gun back in my pocket and told them all to go home. They're nae a bad lot, Kate. I recognised some of them, they crewed for me last season. The Japanese have been riding them hard and they have some scores to settle. They've nae quarrel with us.'

  'I thank you anyway.'

  'It's your driver who ought to thank me. And thank you, too. If you had nae stood up to them they'd have spread his brains all over the road.'

  His hand was resting on the veranda rail. She put hers on top of it. 'For years I thought you were dead.'

  'Now why did you think that?'

  'The war.'

  'A lot of men went to the war.'

  'And a lot didn't come back. I was afraid for you. Is that what you wanted to hear?'

  'Aye, it is.'

  She studied his face in the light of the kerosene lantern. She smiled. 'You haven't changed at all.'

  'You have, Kate,' he said and took his hand away. 'You're another man's wife now, and I have no one to blame for that except myself.'

  'Would you like to come inside?'

  Cameron took off his Panama and toyed with the brim. 'Perhaps I'd better nae do that. Sergeant Clarke is calling for volunteers for a special force to deal with the riot.' He grinned, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. 'Seeing as I have my own revolver, he's certain to make me a field marshal.' He hesitated, suddenly serious once more. 'But perhaps just a moment. May I see the bairn?'

  Kate nodded and led the way inside.

  ***

  Jamie was asleep, one fist tucked underneath his chin. Cameron moved the mosquito netting aside and stared. He felt his throat tighten. The dark blue-black curls, the long eyelashes, the square jaw; Christ, it was like looking at a smaller version of himself.

  My son, Cameron thought. He let the netting fall back.

  'He's like you, isn't he?'

  Cameron couldn't find his voice. He nodded.

  'He has your temperament, as well. He kicked one of the Koepangers in the shins tonight.'

  Cameron laughed at that.

  'I still hate you, Cameron. Whenever I look at him it's impossible not to hate you. You ruined everything. I'll never understand why you did it.

  'I never meant it. But it's done and I cannae undo it now. 'Will you tell him?'

  'That he's your son? Yes, one day. When he's old enough to understand. That's what I agreed with George'

  'I dinnae t
hink he'll ever understand. I still dinnae understand it myself. Maybe it's best you never tell him. I dinnae think it will be a help to him. Do you?'

  She put a hand to his cheek. 'I've never loved anyone but you.'

  Cameron pulled her towards him. Don't do this, he thought. Stop now.

  If only I could.

  ***

  It was after midnight. Kate slipped out of bed and, dressed only in her nightgown, made her way to the bathroom at the back of the house. Their bore water came from the ground scalding hot, so they had to let it cool in the tub. She scooped the tepid water over her body, washing away the sticky residue of their lovemaking.

  She towelled herself dry and went out onto the veranda. It was too hot to sleep. In the distance she could hear the sounds of the rioting in Chinatown. Despite Cameron's assurances she couldn't help but be afraid.

  She heard a board creek behind her and she span around.

  'Liddy! You gave me a fright. What are you doing creeping around here at this time of the night?'

  'Liddy see whitefeller come. He go home now, bimeby?'

  She felt her cheeks flush hot. 'It's none of your damned business! Go back to bed!'

  'Mister God He say ...'

  'I don't want to hear one word about Mister God or Debil-Debil, do you hear me? Now go back to bed!'

  Liddy shook her head and shuffled back down the path to the servant's quarters, muttering.

  Damn her!

  She shivered in the heat. Liddy was right, she did feel Mister God and the debil-debil watching her. First she had got a baby out of wedlock; now she was an adulteress. She was going straight to hell. God would find some way to punish her, she was sure of it.

  ***

  Sergeant Clarke enrolled two hundred whites to act as special constables, to try and keep order. The Japanese outnumbered them four to one, and they were better organised, and better skilled in fighting with knives and clubs. The Koepangers would be massacred to a man if the Europeans did not intervene.

  The fighting spread along Dampier Terrace, and soon the Koepangers in Ferguson's camp were attacked. As they fled past Moss & Richardson's store they saw a small group of Japanese who had not yet been involved in the brawling. Seeing an easy target for revenge they went after them and Kanawa, a diver, was murdered.

  The Japanese now swarmed towards Owen's camp, armed with mangrove clubs and broken bottles. The Koepangers fled and barricaded themselves into the Continental hotel. A handful of whites had gathered outside to try and protect them. When Cameron got there he found Flynn standing next to Sergeant Clarke on the front steps, his hands on his hips, like some relic of the British Raj. George stood behind him, ashen-faced.

  'Got here just in time, my boy,' Flynn said when he saw him. 'Looks like the fun's about to start.'

  'Where have you been?' George said.

  'Attending to my own affairs, George.' Cameron stared at the mob making their way along Dampier Terrace. 'What do you propose, sergeant? We cannae shoot them, surely?'

  'Not if we can avoid it, Mister McKenzie. If they've half a mind, they could massacre us as well.'

  'Why did you issue us with guns then if you don't intend to use them?' George asked him.

  'I think it's time for cool heads, sir,' Clarke told him. 'We must try and avoid any unnecessary bloodshed.'

  Flynn checked the breech of his Lee Enfield rifle. 'Locked and loaded,' he said. He turned to Cameron. 'By the way, my boy, I believe I owe you my thanks. My daughter says you looked out for her tonight. I'd like you to know I'm grateful.'

  'There's nae need to be,' Cameron said. 'I did it for her, nae you. We still have a score to settle you and I - I'll see you in hell for what you did to me!'

  ***

  The Japanese were not afraid of the whites or their guns. They ran up, slapping their bared chests, shouting: 'Shoot! Shoot!' But on Clarke's orders, the Europeans kept their fingers away from their triggers. Clarke was right, they were hopelessly outnumbered, and besides, all their businesses depended on these men. In the morning everyone would be sober; the shell would still be out there.

  The Japanese knew it, too. They didn't want to fight the whites, any more than they wanted to fight them. A rock was thrown, a few insults. They each stood their ground through the long night but by morning the mob started to drift back into Chinatown.

  ***

  The running skirmishes continued for three more days. Isolated from the rest of Australia the preservation of law and order in the town depended on Sergeant Clarke and his six constables, along with the handful of whites who had been pressed into service.

  The Malays were itching to join in the fight against the Japanese but Clarke and the white bosses persuaded them to stay out of it. Cooler heads prevailed. With the aid of some of the senior Japanese - including Nosiro Tanaka - a semblance of calm was restored. By Boxing Day the danger was passed.

  But for a few others it was only just beginning.

  Chapter 27

  Bitter Moon Lane was dimly lit by a few kerosene lamps. A bronze-muscled Manilaman crouched in one of the doorways strumming a guitar. Chinks of yellow light shone through the shuttered windows above the billiard saloon and Flynn heard the rattle of dice and the shouts and curses of the gamblers. He ducked inside, bumping shoulders with one of Clarke's constables on the way. The constable touched the peak of his cap and walked on.

  The billiard room was thick with cigarette smoke and crowded with coloureds and those whites that Flynn never met at any of George's cocktail parties. The men wore either singlets or went bare-chested, beads of sweat shining on their faces.

  Flynn looked around the room and saw the man he was looking for. Flynn nodded at him, and made his way to the rickety wooden bar. He bought himself a tumbler of square-face, and waited.

  ***

  Simeon sauntered over, still holding his billiard cue, and bought a beer.

  'Mister Flynn,' he said.

  'You look like bashed crab,' Flynn said.

  Simeon could not stand to look in a mirror anymore. The doctor had shaved the back of his head to stitch up the wallop he had got from the dog who stole his pearl. His face was already a mess from his encounter with the whale, then Siosuki and his friends had messed it up some more, breaking his nose for a second time. He daren't go and see Anna looking like this.

  Anyway, first he had have his money.

  'Our business was interrupted,' Flynn said. 'Do you still have the merchandise?'

  Simeon hesitated only for a moment. 'I still have it.'

  'Then I suggest we re-arrange our meeting for tomorrow night. Same time, same place.'

  'You'll bring the money?'

  'I'll have the money, my boy. You bring the pearl.'

  Simeon nodded and went back to the billiard table. He sunk a difficult shot off the cushion and when he looked up again, Flynn was gone.

  So far so good. Now he had got his wits back, he had realised that all was not lost yet. Someone had cheated him, so he would pass the favour on. A steamer, the Gorgon, was arriving tomorrow morning, and would sail within the day to catch the tide. He would be on it; and he would have Flynn's money with him. When he arrived safe in Singapore he would send a message to Anna and send her money for the fare.

  Everything would still work out as he had planned.

  'What are you grinning at?'

  Simeon looked around. It was Huey Fong. 'Nothing.'

  'Then let's get on with the game.'

  Simeon bent over the table and completed a successful cannon into the corner pocket. He grinned at Huey. His luck was back. He could feel it in his water.

  Chapter 28

  'So how are things between you and Kathleen?'

  George pulled on his cigar. 'A rather personal question, old boy.'

  'It's a personal matter, George. She's my daughter.'

  George stubbed out his cigar. Another steaming night and George and Flynn were sitting outside on the veranda of George's bungalow. Kate had complained
of a headache and retired to bed.

  It had been almost a week since the riots and Flynn had noted that George and Kate had spoken barely a civil word to each other. Dinner had been agony. He had been the only one even making an attempt at conversation.

  'I'm concerned about the marriage, George,' Flynn said.

  'I can sort out my own domestic affairs, thank you, Patrick.'

  'Can you now?'

  George poured himself another brandy. 'Drink?' he said.

  Flynn wanted to refuse on point of principle - harder to lecture a man when you were drinking his brandy - but he could not help himself. 'A small one.'

  George poured three fingers into a glass and handed it to Flynn. 'Your health.'

  Flynn raised his glass. 'As I was saying ...'

  'I'm finding this conversation rather boring. Mind if we change the subject?'

  'I don't give a damn what you think. I want to ...'

  'Keep your voice down, old boy. She's only in the next room.'

  Flynn leaned forward. 'What happened the night of the riot?'

  'That's all in the past now.'

  'Is it? What if she decides to leave you?'

  'She won't do that.'

  'Won't she now?'

  George leaned back, put his hands behind his head and yawned. 'Where would she go? How could she live?'

  'I would think that's obvious, my boy.'

  There was a long silence as the men regarded each other. 'You can't even support yourself,' George said, finally.

  'What are you talking about?'

  'I've been covering your debts for years, Patrick. You don't think I've paid for your drinking and gambling for nothing? They were loans, Patrick, properly documented, as you know. If I choose to call them in now, how much do you think you'll be left with?' He paused, watching this sink in. 'You don't even know, do you?'

  'I'll pay you back.'

  'Of course you will. The trouble is, after you've sold your shares in the Niland and Company, it won't leave very much.'