Amy's head whirled. Gun running was not an option she had imagined in her fantasies. Still, 300 percent profit had a lovely sound to it.

'About the security you mentioned, the better guns?' She pushed her gla.s.s over to him.

He poured them both the rum, sloshed lemonade into her gla.s.s then looked across the table and grinned. 'The Sydney boys have that in hand. They have also acquired an army Lewis machine gun. It's as good as having a score of riflemen on board. An expensive item, I'm afraid, but an essential investment.' He gave her a while to take this in, then asked, 'Well, are you in?'

Their eyes met and locked in an unblinking transmission of messages. Messages that said we both know who we are, what we want and what we can give each other and we both know the answer is yes.

Amy decided to lay her cards on the table. 'I have no ready cash of my own, but as Tyndall's wife I am ent.i.tled to a share of the business. The pearls in the safe will be my share. It's fair. Tyndall gets his freedom in return.'

'A divorce?'

'If he wants to do the hard work. I'm not going to bother,' she flicked a hand dismissively. 'And after this little enterprise, what then?' she asked.

'You'll have money, you can do what you want.'

'I would be looking for further opportunities in return for my investment,' said Amy. 'I have to think of my future.'

He gave her an appraising look. 'If we get on, we could consider another business project or two.'

'Just business?' Amy leaned forward and ran her tongue over her lips. Raising an eyebrow, she whispered provocatively, 'Maybe we should see how well we get on.'

Gunther glanced down at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and reached for her hand. He pulled her to her feet. 'The bunk's in there. Let's see how compatible we are then,' he said, giving her a gentle shove.

Amy fell back through a curtain onto the bunk, giggling, and watching him strip off his clothes. She felt slightly lightheaded from the strong liquor. She knew it would have to come to this at some stage in any relationship with Gunther and besides, she enjoyed s.e.x. Tyndall's rejection of her had made her feel frustrated and undesirable. She desperately craved the attentions of a man.

Gunther wasted no time in delicate foreplay. Amy had been prepared for rough copulation and expected Gunther to roll away when satisfied. What came as a shock-a wildly erotic and stimulating one-was the untold pleasure he aroused in her. He gave a l.u.s.ty laugh as she cried in ecstasy.

Later as she lay back satiated and sore but immensely satisfied, he revealed his secret. Taking her hand, he rubbed it along the shaft of his p.e.n.i.s till she felt a strange hard b.u.mp on the underside.

'What's that? Is that what made it feel so good?' she asked.

'Ah, a woman who doesn't mind admitting she likes s.e.x,' grinned Gunther. 'It's a pearl. The best baroque, placed in just the right place under the skin to please the ladies. Learned it from a j.a.p diver. They pierce the skin and stick in the p.e.n.i.s pearl. Skin grows back over it and you drive the women crazy.'

Amy had to agree with him as she realised with delight that a partnership with Gunther was going to be profitable in more ways than one.

Early the following morning, before dawn, as the sulky travelled through the quiet streets back to the house on the cliff, Amy reflected on the events of the night. As always seemed to happen to her, an opportunity came along just when she was feeling trapped and bored. Whether she created the diversion or it was coincidence or both, she never bothered to consider. Moving forward hopefully to a more advantageous situation was uppermost in her mind at these times.

She didn't totally trust Gunther, but she knew he could lead her into a world of richer pickings than Broome could offer. A shady world, possibly a dangerous one, and if it came to a choice, Gunther would save himself before Amy. But then she would do the same. If a better opportunity presented itself, Amy would take it. They were using each other as long as it suited them both. She did pause for a moment to wonder about this unlikely alliance and the fascination the rogue skipper held for her. Putting this to one side, she began to think over the details of Gunther's plan. It sounded good. And very profitable.

Amy sent word to Gunther to meet her at The White Lotus. Over jasmine tea she was all business.

'If we agree on matters, how soon before we could leave here?'

'I'm flexible. You seem anxious. We might have to wait in Darwin till the shipment arrives.'

'Be safer than waiting here. Once I have, er, retrieved my investment I think it best if I were not around. I wish to leave before Tyndall returns and discovers the loss.'

'You've figured out how to extricate the pearls?'

She gave him a flirtatious smile. 'I have the keys to the office, but not to the safe. I need a professional hand to get in there.'

'You're asking me? What makes you think I know how to crack a safe?' There was an amused glint in his eye.

'If you don't, you'll know someone, I imagine.'

'It will cost you.' He continued to smile.

Immediately Amy knew Gunther had the nimble fingers and tools that could pick a lock. He looked too confident and relaxed about her request. 'I imagine the cost could be negotiable?'

'Indeed.' He became serious. 'I'll need a day or so. How about Wednesday night?'

Dressed in a dark dress, Amy walked down to the waterfront just before midnight and went quietly into the Star of the Sea building, tiptoeing up the flight of stairs even though the building was empty. She unlocked the door to Tyndall's office and sat behind his desk and waited.

After a while she walked to the window and looked across the moonlit bay. It was an absolutely beautiful evening, the full tide flooding the mangroves and slapping against the old jetty. She became entranced, almost hypnotised by the scene. It was all so peaceful, so beautiful. But suddenly, she felt uncomfortable because the emotions evoked by the view were so at odds with the purpose of her midnight visit to the office. How strange, she thought, that I have come to the other side of the world and in such a short time find myself about to rob a safe and sail off to do deals with pirates. It was not the prospect of the deeds that disturbed her but rather the mystery of the process that led to her easy acceptance of them. How did it happen? What forces had come into play that had led her from a village in Ireland to this place at this time? It was a rare moment of introspection for the streetwise and sharp-minded Amy who held there was no profit in a.n.a.lyses of life's mysteries. She did not consider that when some people make a choice, they are capable of great good, or great evil. Amy didn't bother to reflect on choices in life. Amy looked out for Amy.

A hand suddenly clamped on her hair, tipping her head back and causing her to gasp. Gunther leaned down and bit her ear. 'You didn't hear me, did you?'

'No.' Her heart was beating rapidly and, looking at him, she suddenly wondered if he'd open the safe, take the pearls and be gone from her life. But such doubts were fleeting, disappearing totally in the flood of excitement that surged through her body as he pulled her to him and kissed her roughly. He then went to work on the safe.

He looked at it for some time, using a candle shaded by the palm of his hand to illuminate the lock.

'An easy one,' he finally announced in a whisper. 'They put a lot of money into the steel, not enough into the lock.' He chuckled and unwrapped a small canvas roll to reveal a collection of slim metal tools.

She watched him work on the lock with several pieces of wire and then thin, shaped steel. He cursed frequently, and, at one stage, stopped work and searched the office for a drink, eventually finding the half-empty bottle in a drawer of Tyndall's desk. He sat it beside him and resumed work, sweating and cursing with the strain of concentration and frustration. Amy sat in silence, barely able to breathe so great was the tension.

After two hours, during which Gunther had finished the bottle and startled Amy by kicking the safe several times, he eventually sighed loudly and rolled back on the floor, stretching himself out in a gesture of immense relief. 'Got it,' he whispered exultantly. 'Got it.'

Amy leaped from the chair and crouched beside him, unable to contain her excitement. 'Open it. Open it.'

He sat up, reached confidently for the handle, paused for a second then turned the handle and pulled. The door swung open. Amy clapped her hands in delight, then reached into the safe to feel for the soft bags containing the pearls.

In the moonlight the pearls looked fabulously l.u.s.trous and large.

'Is that enough capital for you? Am I in?' she demanded with a smile. By way of reply, he lunged at her, pushing her to the floor, pinning her beneath him and as she gasped he put a hand over her mouth. Then she realised his other hand was fumbling beneath her skirt and she could see the gleam of his gap-toothed smile. Giggling, she pulled at his leather belt and coa.r.s.e cotton trousers.

They rolled on the floor in a frenzy of s.e.xual pa.s.sion, Amy clutching the bags of pearls with one hand and with the other the tangle of Gunther's oily hair. Oblivious to anything but each other's body they didn't hear the voices and activity down on the wharf until a shout and running footsteps alerted them. Naked, Gunther and Amy peered through the window and Gunther swore.

'That's Ahmed, why is he back?' exclaimed Amy.

'They're carrying someone off, must have been an accident. Get dressed. Let's hope they don't come up here. Does Ahmed have a key?'

'I have no idea.'

They dressed in silence and quickly learned from the shouts below as a carriage pulled up, that it was Captain Tyndall who was the patient.

'My G.o.d, where will they take him? "What will we do about the pearls?'

'Shut the safe door and lock it again. They won't be getting into the safe while Tyndall is sick. Better let me keep them.'

'No, I will.'

Gunther's eyes were hard. 'We're partners. Don't you trust me?'

'No.' She was equally tough. 'These are my ticket out of here. I'll hand them over when you get us out.' He grinned. They understood each other, they were two of a kind.

'Let's get out of here while all that confusion is going on. We can possibly work this to our advantage. Tyndall mightn't pull through and all your worries will be over. You'll get the lot.'

'Let's wait and see. Nothing has changed.'

Ahmed arrived at the house early the following morning to break the news to a sleepy-eyed Amy that Tyndall was very ill after being shipwrecked. 'He is at his house. Doctor says very bad from the sea and the sun and cuts from the coral. Stay in bed long time.'

'I must go to him. Care for him. Oh my.' She wrung her hands and looked distraught, but Ahmed's expression didn't change.

'Mem, Doctor send nurse and Rosminah look after him good.'

Amy's feigned distress dissolved and she spoke briskly. 'Nonsense, Ahmed. I am his wife. I will look after him. Please wait while I dress and take me to him immediately.'

'Yes, mem,' said Ahmed, sitting on a chair on the verandah.

The minute Amy was out of sight, Yusef appeared at the side of the verandah steps and signalled quickly to Ahmed. The two slipped around the house and Yusef told Ahmed of Amy's clandestine meetings with Gunther.Amy set herself up in the spare room of Tyndall's house, announcing she was moving in to care for her dear husband. She sent Rosminah back to the house to pack clothes and personal things, for she wouldn't be leaving his side 'until my beloved husband is well again.'

Tyndall lay in a state of semi-consciousness, only vaguely aware of where he was or what was happening around him. Visions of sharks and swamping waves and the sensation of searing skin haunted him. The pain from his badly infected leg was so bad that the doctor prescribed morphine.

Amy dismissed the nurse, donned a white ap.r.o.n and demure blouse and sat by Tyndall's bed. The doctor saw she was not going to budge and so carefully gave her the directions for the medication he had prescribed. He said he would be back regularly to check on the patient but she was to fetch him if she was at all concerned at his condition.

'Doctor, I will watch over him day and night. Don't you worry about him. He will get all my attention.'

She spoke with such concern, such care and compa.s.sion that the doctor was slightly taken aback. This was not the glamorous young woman he had observed swishing through the Continental. He recalled conversations between his wife and her friends about Amy Tyndall and pondered briefly on the complexities of women and their relationships. Amy seemed quite the devoted wife, not at all the woman of dubious repute his wife and her friends had described.In the meantime, Ahmed asked Toby Metta to write to Olivia telling her of Tyndall's accident.

Toby put down the details with copperplate handwriting and then laid the pen aside. Looking up at the distressed Ahmed, he asked, 'Was there anything else you wanted to put in the letter, Ahmed?'

'Tell her Ahmed very worried 'bout tuan. While he bin away Mem Amy seen Karl Gunther. Couple of times. Night times, too. Ahmed no like this.'

Toby picked up the pen again. 'I don't like it either, Ahmed. But maybe it's best we don't mention Mrs Tyndall in the letter.'

Amy settled herself comfortably beside the sleeping Tyndall, adjusting her skirt over the soft velvet bags of pearls tied to her waist. She smiled at her sleeping husband. 'Poor Johnny. Fate works in strange ways indeed, doesn't it, my dear.'

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

With the approach of the wet, the clan returned to the coast from the desert and made camp. Their diet would also change, to nutritious fish and sh.e.l.lfish.

On a fine morning the small group of women set out towards the mission with the comfortable gait of seasoned walkers. They stopped to greet a young Aboriginal man working in the struggling vegetable garden and asked him where Maya was. He shook his head and told them in their own language that she had been sent away. Far away. To live with white people.

The group sat down to talk this over amongst themselves. It was known that children had been taken away from their people to be trained in missions and sent to work for white people. But they had not expected this to happen to Maya. It was painful for them to accept this news.

Brother Frederick came and sat with them and tried to explain why he had let Maya go with the visiting priest to be taken in by a white family. How more opportunities and a better life would result. After all she had apparently already had some white upbringing. And she could almost pa.s.s for white, he explained. But this meant little to her family. She was what she was. One of them. Maya had been through the ceremonies and given her sh.e.l.l necklace totem. She had her Dreaming and it could never be taken from her.

The women wanted to know when Maya would come back, when her 'white business' be over, but the priest could not give them an answer. 'Maya has gone to a new home. A new life. It is best for her.'

In response to this, the women began wailing as if Maya was dead. Brother Frederick went in to the church to pray. He knew he had done the right thing, she would be brought up in a Christian home and be taught and trained in the morals and beliefs of her new white Catholic family. She would eventually forget the hardships of her nomadic life, and the rituals and beliefs she'd been taught would seem like childhood fairy stories. He tried to block out the wailing cries of the women as he prayed for Maya and those lost souls who called themselves her family.

In her small white room, uncomfortable and unused to the long cotton nightdress and bloomers, Maya dutifully knelt by the bed and repeated the Lord's Prayer aloud as she was bid. Then climbing between sheets and after her new 'mother' had blown out the lamp, she sang softly to herself the songs she'd learned by campfires. It gave Maya a small sense of comfort and hope that this part of her life would also change. In her short life she had learned that times of joy and security did not last, but she never gave up hope that somewhere there was a right place for her. And she clung to memories of her mother's arms and soft sweet voice and a laughing man singing loudly as he tickled and teased her.

Gilbert Shaw and Olivia decided to investigate other inst.i.tutions and set out for the monastery at New Norcia.

It had been a long journey but one Olivia had enjoyed. The train trip from Perth had been comfortable and she and Gilbert had talked undisturbed at length. Olivia's enthusiasm for their modest 'halfway house' for girls bubbled over and Gilbert kept smiling at her.

'Why do you look so amused all the time?' asked Olivia. 'If I didn't know better I'd think you were treating me like an indulged child.'

'I so enjoy your zest for life, Olivia. You tackle everything head on, boots and all. It's bracing and stimulating to be around you.' He squeezed her hand. 'You make me feel that I still have something to offer.'

'But Gilbert, you do! I'm so proud of the work you do. And because you allow me to feel and act the way I do, I feel safe,' she paused, 'sort of protected, and very lucky to be with you.'

'I am the lucky one. You amaze me when I stop and think about your life. Such courage, such a will to soldier on despite odds that might have crushed others. You are strong and caring, Olivia, and an inspiration to others.'

'I've learned from you that helping others is a balm to your own wounds. Dear Gilbert, you are such a good man.' She gave him a tender smile and for a moment Gilbert wanted to sweep her into his arms and smother her face with pa.s.sionate kisses. But he smiled and stroked her hand.

When they alighted from the train a young monk came forward and asked if they were travelling to the monastery at New Norcia. 'I have a carriage. I think you'll find it a pretty ride.'

The dirt road wound through lightly timbered and open countryside and the young monk chatted over his shoulder, telling them of many facets of life at the monastery.

'What is Father Torres like?' asked Olivia.

'Very clever, he has degrees in art and science from the University of Barcelona and he teaches maths and science.'

'I understood he had some medical knowledge as well,' said Gilbert.

'Oh yes, it has been very useful. He is also well versed in philosophy and music.'

The first sign of habitation was well-tended vine-yards.

'We Benedictines are famous for planting grapes wherever we go,' grinned their driver.

They pa.s.sed orchards and ploughed fields and several barns and farm buildings and soon what looked like a small township came into view. Gilbert and Olivia were effusive with their admiration for the settlement as they drew up before the imposing mellow stone monastery.

The monk lead them through a quiet stone corridor to the reception room to meet Father Fulgentius Torres. The handsome Spanish priest greeted them warmly and offered a gla.s.s of the monastery wine before luncheon.

'I've heard of the good work your order has done here with the Aborigines, Father. This is far from the bush mission I had expected,' said Gilbert.

'Bishop Salvado did great work. Now I have inherited his mantle, I have plans to give the mission a new direction as a centre for education for Aborigines. I am also supervising the construction of a boarding school for girls-St Gertrude's College.'

'Who will run it?' asked Olivia.