It was dangerous country and in previous years Cameron had avoided it. But this year, with shell lays down and prices depressed, he had decided to take the risk for the Graveyard also had a lot of shell.
He kept the Roebuck reaching close to the wind, under short sail, to prevent her drifting too fast with the tide. If the lugger moved faster than walking pace the diver would just be dragged along behind with no chance to fish.
It was a clear day with blue skies. The Koepangers backs gleamed as they worked the air pump. This was their third day on the Graveyard and they were getting good shell. Cameron's decision seemed to have been vindicated. The current was slow and they were having the best week they had had all season.
Their number one diver was a wiry fellow by the name of Mitsura. He had just sent up his second bag of shell in under half an hour.
Wes was his tender. He was lying out from the port side on a narrow wooden platform to prevent the lines getting fouled. It was monotonous work. Suddenly he felt the lifeline go taut. He let out more of the line but it continued to strain. Something had gone wrong.
'Jay-sus!' he yelled. They must be snagged. 'Overboard lines! Overboard dinghy! Anchors astern!'
The crew came alive and the deck was suddenly filled with running, cursing men. Coils of lifeline and air hose were thrown overboard and the dinghy lowered quickly from the port side. The stern anchor clanked and groaned as it splashed into the water.
Cam rushed over. 'What happened?' he asked Wes.
'Tide runnin' too fas' I reckon. Mebbe de line snag da reef.'
'Lower jib and for's'l!' Cam shouted. 'Hurry!'
The anchor rope shivered with the weight of the lugger bowing to the tide. The red rubber air hose were already at full play, the coir lifeline taut as a bowstring. Cameron prayed the ropes would hold. He imagined his diver down there, helpless in his heavy diving suit, looking up in terror to the hull of the Roebuck thirty fathoms above.
Cameron turned to his number two diver, Ishiguchi, who was still sitting on his stool by the mast, smoking a cigarette.
'Will you go down for him?'
Ishiguchi stared straight ahead, and shook his head.
'He's afeared da current take him too, skip.'
'Aye I guess I dinnae blame him. Well, there's only one thing for it.'
Cameron went back to the scuttle. There was a spare diving dress in his cabin. If Mitsura's line was fouled on a niggerhead, another diver could free it and save his life. As master of the Roebuck it was his responsibility now.
As he crossed the deck there was a deafening crack! Like a cannon discharging. The lifeline had parted. The rubber air hose tore seconds later.
Mitsura was alone on the bottom of the ocean.
Chapter 57
Cameron stood on the rope ladder, the corselet resting on the bulwark, as Wes gave the copper helmet a half turn to screw it into place. Then he fetched the face glass from the bucket.
'You doan wanna dive no mo',' Wes said. 'You get sick agin. Nuthin' anyone can do fer dat Mitsura now.'
'I'll nae leave a diver of mine on the bottom. Quick, man!'
Wes screwed on the glass and gave Cameron the thumbs up. Cameron launched himself backwards and a few moments later sank below the surface of King Sound in a stream of bubbles.
***
Cameron reached the bottom, air hissing into his helmet in a riot of noise. He adjusted the outlet valve to the water pressure and waited a moment to orient himself.
He was in the lee of a gloomy black cliff below one of the islands. A large fish surged by, just out of his vision, leaving a trail of phosphorescence in the murky, green water like the tail of a falling comet. A deadly box jellyfish glided past, a billowing curtain of lustrous silk, its long tendrils glowing red and green.
He heard what sounded like the distant, mournful notes of a funeral bell. What the hell was that? He looked up and saw a huge boulder trapped in the twisting underwater entrance to the Graveyard. The current between the cliffs was so strong it was moving the rock back and forwards, like the clapper of some huge underwater bell.
Stay calm, he told himself. You're sweating like a bairn.
He took his first tentative steps forward, following the base of the cliff. The sand suddenly exploded in front of him and he swore aloud, his curse echoing inside the chamber of his helmet. He had disturbed a large ray. It flapped its great bat-like wings and glided away.
It had been almost half an hour by his reckoning since Mitsura's lines had broken. Cameron knew there was little chance of finding him alive. But he would not abandon him. He had sent him down; he would bring him up again.
A huge coral tree loomed out of the mists. Below an overhang guarded the entrance of a cave. He saw something slither away from him across the weed, retreating back into the shadows. At first he thought it was a huge eel or sea snake. But as he got closer he recognised the red rubber of an air pipe.
Mitsura!
As he stepped into the lee of the cliff it was as if a light had been switched on. Everything in the shadowy world became suddenly distinct. 'Jesus Christ Almighty!'
The grouper weighed at least four or five hundred pounds by his reckoning. It was a monster, dirty grey in colour, its body as large as the Roebuck's whaleboat. Needle-like teeth gleamed behind thick, rubbery lips. It had Mitsura's body in its mouth and shook it furiously from side to side, like a bull terrier worrying a dead rabbit. The teeth tore away pieces of fabric from the diving suit and a cloud of blood and entrails spilled out.
The impassive green eyes turned towards him, studying him curiously.
Cameron reached for his lifeline. He was sure Mitsura had been long dead when this monster found him. But Cameron had never in his life seen or heard of a grouper this large and for the first time in his life he lost control of his own fear. He opened his air valve to inflate his suit and clung grimly to his lifeline as he shot up through the water, away from the green-eyed horror below.
***
The sun set over the Buccaneer Archipelago, throwing long shadows over the green-tipped islands of King Sound. The smell of brewing coffee and the stronger odours of curry and blatchan came from the galley. Assan the cookboy usually sang as he worked, but tonight the boat was silent and the ensign on the stern hung limp at half mast.
Cameron saw his second diver, Ishiguchi and the Japanese carpenter exchange glances. Mitsura's ghost would follow the Roebuck everywhere now. He would have trouble finding crew for her next season. He sat on the stool beside the mast, steadying his nerves with a cigarette. He was still dressed in the heavy canvas diving suit.
Wes squatted down beside him. 'Dat Ishiguchi he doan dive dis place no mo', skip. Bad joss h'yar now.'
'I ken that. We'll sail south on the tide. Try deeper waters.'
The sun fell below the horizon and the crew lashed hurricane lamps to the boom and lit them, one by one. The cordage creaked against the swell.
'I see man one time got his leg bit off by one ol' man grouper. Not tear him, like shark. One bit, clean tru.'
'I've nae seen one like it, Wes.'
'Seen him plenty in Jamaic'. When dey open dere mouf, you can see reet down da backbone to da tail. You is lucky he doan have you fer his dinner too.'
'I dinnae wait around to let him decide his tastes,' Cameron said. 'Ten years in these waters and he's the first man I've lost on one of ...'
A spasm of pain hit him without warning. It struck him in the elbow, snapping it shut at the joint and putting him on the deck. He heard himself screaming, but it sounded as if his voice was coming from the end of a long and dark tunnel. He couldn't breathe.
Wes cursed and shouted instructions to the crew. He heard him say the word 'bends'. Hadn't he seen enough men thrashing around on the decks like this? Well now he knew what it was really like. He could never have imagined anything quite like this.
'God help me,' he tried to say but no words would come. Another spasm hit him, leaving howling and helpless, writhin
g in the scuppers like a fish, both elbows flexed to his chest. He tasted the bitter salt of his own blood in his mouth and he wished that he was dead.
Chapter 58
Cameron opened his eyes to a dark and silent world of phosphorescent ghosts. He was cold. He tried to move his hands but he could not make them respond. The ragged sound of his own breathing echoed in his helmet.
There was a nauseating memory of pain. The fear of it troubled his fitful reverie, but it did not return, although its residue gnawed at his soul.
A huge but indistinct shaped floated in front of him. He groaned, trying to focus. It was the grouper. It's luminous eyes floated in the night sea, watching him like two green moons. He felt consciousness slip away and when he woke again, seconds or minutes or hours later the fish was gone.
He felt his strength slowly return, and the darkness gave way to a suffused green light. The wraiths he saw around him became the silhouettes of reef fish and when he looked up he saw the copper hull of the Roebuck above him.
'Nae my day to die,' he said to the echoing vault of the copper helmet.
***
Cameron lay on his back staring at the high ceiling, watching the slow revolution of the fan. The doors of the ward were thrown open to the scents and birdsong of the garden. The air smelled sweet; he had spent nearly twenty four hours in the steel decompression tank. The doctors said he was lucky to be alive but that he might never walk again.
Footsteps echoed on the wooden boards. He looked up and saw Kate Niland striding down the ward, scandalizing the nursing staff. It was the first time he had smiled in days.
She stood at the end of the bed and shook her head, with a look of forbearance like he was a small boy she had warned not to climb trees.
'Hello Mrs Niland. It's kind of you to come.'
'I hope I'm not embarrassing you.'
'Not at all.'
She sat down in the chair beside the bed. 'My reputation will be sullied, of course, while I am sure yours will be enhanced.' She glanced towards the end of the ward; the matron was watching them, hard-eyed and disapproving. 'By the end of the day everyone in Broome will know I was here.'
'I did nae expect you to come, I admit.'
'What have you done to yourself?'
'Came up too fast. I dinnae have a young man's bones anymore.'
'Are you paralysed?'
'Lift up the covers.'
'What?'
He grinned. 'I'm nae being unproper, Mrs Niland. Lift up the covers by my feet.'
She lifted the sheet by his left leg, ignoring the look of outrage from the matron. Cameron wriggled the toes in his left foot.
'See! Another week and I'll walk out of here by myself!'
Kate replaced the sheet. She felt tears well in her eyes.
'Dinnae cry at me, woman! What the hell's wrong?'
'What a waste!'
'What waste, for God's sake?'
'You. Me. I hate this ... it's so furtive and grubby. I love you, Cam.'
'Aye, I love you too, Kate.'
She squeezed his hand, quickly.
He nodded his head towards the ward matron. 'Will you nae do that? You'll have the Angel of Death down here in a minute.'
'I'm sorry.' Kate's chair scraped on the floor as she pulled it further from the bed. 'What will you do?'
'Do?'
'Will you give up the pearling now?'
'Now why would I do that, woman?'
'You'll not go to sea again after this?'
'I'll nae dive again but the sea's my life. What else can I do? Can you see me sitting around playing bridge with Doctor Halloran and drinking lemonade?'
'We could go down to Perth. You could skipper a fishing boat again. Something a little less dangerous.'
'I went down to try and save my diver. It was an accident. I'll nae go down again.'
'You didn't hear what I said. Let's get away from here.'
They heard the clicking of sensible shoes. The matron came to stand by the bed, her mouth drawn down like a bow. 'Visiting hours are over. It's time for the patient to rest.'
Cameron was still staring at Kate. 'Do you mean that?' he said.
'I never say things I don't mean.'
Matron cleared her throat.
Cameron looked up at her. 'You're interrupting a private conversation.'
'I run this ward for the benefit of my patients health, Mister McKenzie. I am not a social director.'
'Aye, that's a fact. You should definitely not give up your nursing just yet.'
Kate got to her feet.
'He's still very ill, Mrs Niland,' the matron said to Kate.
'As soon as I'm standing again, Mrs Niland,' Cameron said. 'I'll boot this old bird's backside for you.'
'You'll not be booting anything for a very long time, Mister McKenzie,' the matron hissed and walked away.
'Take care, Cam,' Kate said.
'Thanks for the visit, Mrs Niland. I'll think about what you said.'
She fought an impulse to throw her arms around him. She could have left through the wide doors into the garden but instead she walked back the length of the ward, head held high, and stared down the matron the whole way. She stopped at the nurse's station, checked the clock on the wall against the watch pinned on her uniform. 'You're running slow,' she said to her, straightened the matron's collar and walked out.
***
Cameron felt her standing next to the bed. He opened his eyes and turned his head to the side. She had on long khaki shorts, like a boy, and her school blouse. She was eleven years old now, a stringbean of a girl with long brown limbs and a tangled mop of blonde curls like her mother had, freckles sprinkled over her nose like flakes of milk chocolate. She went barefoot, like a native, despite Cameron's protests, and the soles of her feet were calloused like a native's. The dusty white frock danced around her legs.
'Hello tiger,' he said, using his nickname for her.
She didn’t say anything, lifted the sheet and stared at his feet. He wiggled his toes to let her know he was all right, that he did not have the paralysis.
'The doctor says you’re going to be all right.'
'So I am. They put me in the decompression chamber and now I just have to lie on my back for a day or two and then I’ll be good as new.'
'Promise me you won’t ever dive again.'
He sighed. 'I promise.'
She had her arms crossed, petulantly, the long brown legs protruding from the shorts, long and spindly as a Jabiru's.
'I don’t want you to go to sea anymore.'
'Well I have to lass. Maybe my diving days are done, but the sea is in my blood.'
She pouted and scuffed the floorboard with her toe.
'Who was that woman?' she said.
'You know who she is. That’s Kate Niland.'
'What was she doing here? Why did she come to see you?'
'She wanted to pass on her best wishes, that was all.'
Elvie made a face.
'What’s that face, lass?'
'You remember when I was little and we were in Mister Tanaka’s store and I stole the gobstopper from the jar on the counter? You asked me if I took it and I said no? And eventually you made me say I had and you told me never ever to lie again. That lying was bad for your soul?'
'Aye, I said that.'
'So what was that woman really doing here?'
'God in heaven Elvie, you're a trial and no mistake. What do you want me to say to you?'
'Whatever’s true.'
'We have a history, her and I.'
'What kind of history?'
'I was in love with her once.'
'Once?'
'Aye. Well, I still am.'
'Is that why she comes to the house some afternoons?'
Cameron felt the blood rush to his face. Christ, how long had she known about that? 'How did you know about that? Have you been skipping classes?'
'What, am I the one in trouble now, pa?'
'Did you come here to
torment a sick man?'
'Did you love her before my ma, or after?'
'Before, if that’s what’s troubling you. What are all these questions, lass? Shouldn’t you be at school right now?'
'I came here to see you.'
'Were you seeing Mrs Niland when Ma was alive.'
'Of course I wasn't! What kind of a man do you take me for?'
She leaned in close and whispered loud enough for the whole ward to hear. 'What you're doing is a sin!'
'Who told you that?'
'God.'
'You mean the nuns at your school. There's a difference, lass.' Cameron watched the slow revolution of the ceiling fan. 'I loved your ma, too. It was just ... different. And she's not around now. It's complicated, Elvie lass. Perhaps when you're older, you'll understand.'
'I wish I could remember her.'
'Do you nae have the wee photograph I gave you?'
'It's not the same. She looks different all dressed up like that.'
'It was a photographic parlour, in Fremantle. We went down there once, when you were little. Do you nae remember it?'
'I used to remember a lot of things. It gets harder now. Every day I can imagine her less and less and it scares me. I want to remember.' She sat down in the chair that Kate Niland had warmed for her. "'Tell me how you met her.'
'What, now?'
'You're not going anywhere, pa.'
He wondered how to explain. 'I met her here in Broome,' he said.
'Was she born here?'
Cam shook his head.
'Sammy Keane said she worked behind the bar at the Bosun's Regret.'
'Aye, I guess she did.'
'What was she like? Was she pretty?'
'Aye, she was. Very pretty.'
'Was she skinny and did she have freckles and blonde curls?'
'You want to know if your mother looked like you do when she was thirteen and the fact is I dinnae know. When I met her she just had the blonde curls. But she was bonny in her figure, yes, and you would have fitted three of her inside Mrs Rathbone’s knickers, no mistake.'
At the mention of Mrs Rathbone’s knickers Elvie broke into a fit of giggles. The matron looked up from her desk at the nurses' station.
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