There was a sharp intake of breath, a slight hissing, as Yoshi reacted with a rare show of emotion. 'Ah,' he said softly. 'We work in j.a.pan. What work?'

'Pearling, Yoshi. Mikimoto pearling. I think it's time we both took a look at what he's up to.' Tyndall waited for Yoshi to say something, then laughed and added, 'Mebbe a chance for you to get a missus, Yoshi. Marry a nice girl and bring her back here.'

Yoshi smiled briefly, then gave Tyndall a raised thumb signal, which Tyndall acknowledged in style. And both knew the deal was done.

Captain Evans was put in charge of refitting the fleet during the lay up, Toby Metta charged with working up the pearls and dispatching them to Olivia, and the sh.e.l.l take was sold quickly, at a slight discount, so that the trip and wet season activities could be financed. Leaving Ahmed in charge, Tyndall and Yoshi caught a steamer to Darwin, then to Singapore and another to Yokohama.

It hadn't been easy to reach Kokichi Mikimoto, despite the carefully worded letters that Tyndall arranged to be written for him in j.a.panese. But eventually his persistence paid off, an invitation was issued and Yoshi was summoned from his village. The two travelled to the island of Tatoku in the Bay of Ago where Mikimoto had made his successful experiments in pearl growing.

The small steam service boat nosed close to sh.o.r.e and as it headed towards the landing Tyndall and Yoshi were intrigued to see wooden tubs secured by ropes bobbing on the surface. Yoshi spoke briefly to the helmsman and with a grin he took them closer and idled the engine. Suddenly women divers began popping to the surface, dropping oysters into tubs. They had no equipment to aid their diving. Yoshi questioned the driver and translated. 'Women better divers than men. No trouble going down to five fathoms.'

Wearing the traditional white loincloth and modest white shirts, their hair tied in a tight bun at the nape of their neck, they plunged and resurfaced like a school of happy porpoises. The men rowed amongst them collecting filled baskets.

Tyndall recalled the Aboriginal women pearl divers in the early days of the Australian industry. 'Easier work than the big suit, eh, Yoshi?' said Tyndall.

'Mebbe one make good wife,' he grinned back.

Tyndall folded his long legs awkwardly beneath him as he sat on the cushion on the floor opposite Mikimoto. He was a strong-featured man, still young looking in his fifties and wore a simple black cotton kimono. Steaming tea in small bowls sat on the low cherry-wood table between them.

Mikimoto spoke in English. 'So, Captain Tyndall, you wish to make pearls grow like turnips, eh?'

'As you do, Mikimoto san!'

The great man threw back his head and laughed heartily. 'It is true. I had a dream and I never let it go. It cost me a lot at times ... my money, my family life, even at one point my good name! My beloved Ume, my late wife, was always beside me and made it possible for me to continue with my experiments. Sadly she was not able to see the day I created a perfect round pearl. But the lesson is, you must not give up what your heart truly desires.'

Tyndall thought suddenly of Olivia, but turned his questions to specifics of pearl culture. Mikimoto was generous with information but, as Tyndall had guessed, he did not divulge all his secrets.

Later Tyndall and Yoshi were shown around the tiny family feudal kingdom and came away convinced they should attempt experiments in the sheltered creeks of the north-west. Yoshi returned to his village to make final arrangements for the bride he had chosen to travel to Australia, and rejoined Tyndall in Yokohama to sail home.

But no sooner had they arrived home and settled into the mundane routine of life than war was declared in Europe. Tyndall's plans for expansion and new horizons were thus put on hold and, as the war dragged on, the bottom dropped out of the pearl sh.e.l.l market.

Olivia stared at her tall young son standing proudly before her in his uniform of the Royal Australian Naval Brigade. How handsome he looked. But how her heart winced.

Hamish read the anguish in his mother's eyes. 'Don't worry, Mother. I shan't be off for some months.'

'Are you sure about this, darling? I'm proud of you for volunteering so quickly, but you are only twenty years old ... '

'Mum, it's our duty! You and Dad came from England. We are part of the Empire and we have to do our bit for the home country.'

Olivia admired his patriotism but worried about the dangers he faced. For Hamish, joining the navy was not only the chance for adventure and service to his country but also a career opportunity. The sea had called him ever since Tyndall first took him out on the lugger named after his father.

Hamish had joined the Royal Australian Naval Reserves in Fremantle as a cadet while still at school and over the years had continued part-time training, attending weekly drill nights, annual camps and occasional courses. Olivia was pleased he had found his pa.s.sion and interest early in life.

So, at the outbreak of war, as a trained member of the Reserves he joined up and was posted to the Royal Australian Naval Brigade unit at Albany to work on laying out convoy anchorages and to help set up a naval lookout station.

During this time, Hamish wrote to Tyndall: Dear Uncle John, I'm having the time of my life! I am nonetheless aware of the duty that has called us all here and the seriousness of the task ahead, but what a fine bunch of lads are here. You would be proud of my sea skills ... I realise now you taught me so much and I'm grateful. You would probably have a few blunt remarks to make about the 'prissiness' of we sailor boys doing drill in our immaculate uniforms!

I don't imagine life in the navy will be anything like life on board a lugger! However I still look forward to the day I might be a good enough seaman to be taken on board by the Star of the Sea. Keep the home fires burning-or rather the beer cold and the sails set fair. I know you will watch out for my mother no matter what her circ.u.mstances. Gilbert is a fine man and what she needs at this time in her life. But you have been very significant and special in both our lives and I think of you often. Please pa.s.s on my kind thoughts to Ahmed, Yoshi, Taki and all the rest.

Hamish A few months later Hamish wrote to his mother: Albany, October 1914.

I have so enjoyed my time here-I have met a very nice girl. I hope you will meet her one day ... after the war. But how I yearn to be part of the great military convoy a.s.sembled here! It is an impressive sight with so many troop ships and escorts out in the sound. To think they have come from all parts of Australia and New Zealand. Soon they will set out on the great adventure to the other side of the world.'

It didn't take long for Hamish to hear of the forming of the Royal Australian Naval Bridging Train, a kind of support service. He w.a.n.gled a transfer and was drafted to Melbourne to join a unit of the 'train' about to be shipped out on the transport, Port Macquarie. Port Macquarie.

On his last leave in June 1915, he travelled to Fremantle by coastal steamer to farewell his mother.

They sat over tea and his favourite cake while he explained to her what his strange unit was all about.

'The Naval Board has offered to send a train of personnel, equipment, vehicles, horses and so on to serve in Europe.'

'But what will you do exactly, dear?'

'Build bridges, jetties, piers and pontoons for making harbours and landings on invasion beaches. We're navy but told sometimes we might be under army command.'

'And will you be involved in any actual fighting?' asked Olivia apprehensively.

'Officially, no. But if there's a chance, we'll certainly have a go,' said Hamish enthusiastically.

'Do be careful, Hamish,' said Olivia, taking his hand. She smilingly added, 'I suppose it's a silly thing to say.'

He patted her hand. 'Mum, please don't worry about me. I couldn't bear to think of you going through each day, fretting. Promise me you won't do that. Think of the great things I'll be doing, the places I'll see. Be pleased that I'm glad to be part of it all.' His smile softened. 'And if, just if, anything happens to me, you must promise me not to be sad ... '

'Hamish! You can't say that! Don't even think it.'

'Mother, it has to be faced as a possibility. I've thought about it. And you know ... I'm not afraid of dying. So remember that. And I want to know that you'll go on with your life and be happy. Give me the freedom to go with a light heart knowing you will be all right. I've always admired your strength, don't fall apart, Mum. We all have to do our duty.'

She nodded and kissed his cheek, holding his head to her breast for a moment. Then he settled back in his seat, helped himself to more cake and gave her his impressions of Melbourne.

When it came time to say goodbye, Olivia called on all her inner strength to be calm. 'Are you sure you don't want me to come to Melbourne and see you off?'

'It's no grand departure ... not like the convoy leaving Albany. The Port, as we call her, will waddle out of Port Phillip Bay without much fanfare. I'd rather remember you here in this lovely room with the smell of cake and tea. Not standing on some windy rainy dock.'

'Those poor horses ... I hope they survive the trip,' said Olivia absently.

They held each other tightly. 'I'll go and see Gilbert and Mollie and then I'll be off. Stay here. I love you, Mum'

He quietly left the room, turning to blow her a kiss and then shut the door softly behind him.

Tyndall wrote to Olivia that he was staying on in Broome even though many boats had stopped working. Some opportunists were coming down from the Aru Islands up north and applying for the unused licences in order to build up their own fleets. These men, who had been using cheap labour and working at the Arus just outside the three mile limit, were not welcome in Broome. Tyndall was not going to readily forfeit what he'd fought to build up, but he admitted to Olivia in his letter that the business was doing poorly and it would be hard to keep the fleet in good shape for much longer due to the war.

The pearl sh.e.l.l market was moribund and the buyers in Vienna and Paris were cancelling their contracts. Broome had become a ghost town. Some pearlers had gone bankrupt, some left for adventures overseas and down south, putting a brave face on their penniless condition. Others, barely solvent, sold their boats, paid off their crews as best they could and became verandah pearlers.

Tyndall, like many of the master pearlers, was concerned at the rising dominance of the j.a.panese crews. A powerful band of j.a.panese proprietors and merchants acted as bankers for the j.a.panese divers and crews who were engaged in gambling, selling snide pearls or dummying. Officially, a j.a.panese could not own a lugger, so they set up white 'owners' to dummy for them while they controlled and owned the business. Dummying flourished and, although everyone knew, nothing was done about it.

Trying to break the increasing j.a.panese hold on the industry was regarded as 'too hard'. The j.a.panese tightened their grip by refusing to train divers from other races.

Tyndall tried to get the white master pearlers to unite and form a co-operative, but his plan was not well received. Pearling had always attracted an independent breed of man who socialised with others readily enough but played his cards close to his chest when it came to business dealings.

The only matter that the master pearlers agreed upon at this juncture was the appalling loss of life due to paralysis since the recent introduction of engine-driven compressors to replace hand pumps. Although this allowed divers to go to greater depths, the risks were higher. Divers hated the staging required in ascending from extreme depths, preferring to put their faith in a rice paper charm rather than hang suspended at varying depths as they staged their way to the surface. Many lives were saved by the steel decompression chamber presented to Broome hospital by Heinke and Co., the company, along with Seibe Gorman of London, which made the diving suits.

Tyndall decided to take another tack. Sitting in his office he laboured over a notepad, occasionally s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up pages and throwing them with accuracy into the wastebasket across the room. He wished Olivia was there to help him, but finally he was satisfied with what he'd written. In an open letter to all the master pearlers of Broome he set out a proposal for culturing pearls as a secondary industry. He told of his visit to Mikimoto, how cultured pearls could replace the dwindling pearl sh.e.l.l market. He explained that, far from devaluing natural pearls, it actually would increase their value. He told of how Mikimoto set high standards for his pearls, those that didn't meet them were destroyed. He pointed out that the cultivated pearls were produced by the oyster in exactly the same manner as naturally occurring pearls once a 'nucleus' was introduced. The use of mother-of-pearl was threatened by the new plastics industry so by creating a middle market for less expensive pearls they would ensure their own survival as pearlers.

'It was as if I'd let off a cannon from Buccaneer Rock,' wrote Tyndall to Olivia. 'I scored a direct hit on the Pearlers' a.s.sociation and also the j.a.panese Club, so help me. They're all dead against it, accusing me of sabotaging the whole industry. I don't mind some chaps tackling me in the Lugger Bar, in some cases I've almost persuaded them. But a few of them just cut me dead. I'm sure you know the ones! Toby and Mabel are my sole supporters at this stage. Ahmed remains loyal but doubtful, however I know he'll be at my side whatever I decide. Yoshi is enthusiastic, having seen the j.a.panese operation although I was surprised at the lack of interest from the local j.a.p community. Yoshi tells me it is discussed in their club with downright fear. Where do you stand, my dear partner?'

Fondly, Tyndall Dear John, I don't feel well positioned to advise you on the matter of the cultured pearls. It sounds interesting, but I would like to see some of them. Would it be an expensive operation to set up? It's all a bit experimental and perhaps it's early days yet. Plant the seed ... like a pearl and let them mull about it. In other words, let nature take its course. You tend to be impetuous and rush forth.

I'm sorry I can't be more positive but I am aware of the financial position of Star of the Sea and I'm very taken up with the running of the girls' refuge here. It is rewarding work. There seem to be more girls in need at this time with so many of the young men going away and leaving broken hearts behind!

I hope you are well, give my best to Ahmed and the boys.

Olivia Tyndall folded her letter and put it carefully in his desk drawer with her other correspondence. d.a.m.n you, Olivia, he thought. A polite formal note as always, signed with her neat signature, minus any expression of affection. He was hurt, too, that she didn't want to be more involved with his idea. He just couldn't see Olivia preoccupied with a home for wayward girls.

The local debate about Tyndall's scheme soon came to a head. A meeting was called by the Master Pearlers' a.s.sociation at the Continental Hotel 'for all interested parties'.

The dining room was packed with the master pearlers and their wives, leaders in the business community and, sitting in a row at the back, influential members of the j.a.panese business and pearling community.

There had been some mutterings among the executive about the presence of the j.a.panese but, after some discussion with Mr Takahashi who ran several stores in town, it was agreed they should be allowed to stay on the understanding that there might be some remarks which may be disrespectful to their community.

Mr Takahashi bowed and said he understood.

Once everyone was settled, the chairman of the a.s.sociation, Mr Bernard, rose behind the small table set at the front of the room, outlined what Tyndall had proposed and opened the subject for discussion. Several men jumped to their feet and speaker after speaker condemned the scheme.

Tyndall sat beside the chairman becoming increasingly angry until he could control himself no longer and leapt to his feet. 'Poppyc.o.c.k! Cultured pearls are real pearls. They are no threat to natural pearls!'

Another pearler stood. 'I've seen attempts at making pearls on Thursday Island and it's a jolly tricky business and what they did get was of no value. I have seen some of the j.a.p pearls and they are of poor quality l.u.s.tre. My concern is that if we use our oysters, which are far superior, then maybe we could produce pearls with a better nacre that would undermine our natural pearls.'

Tyndall jumped to his feet again. 'That's the point!' he shouted. 'We can make good pearls, ones with a decent l.u.s.tre that will meet a market for those who can't afford natural pearl!'

The arguments raged and Tyndall sank in his seat stony faced, disappointed at the little support he was getting and stunned by the lack of vision and understanding among his pearling colleagues. Mabel Metta gave him a smile of encouragement which he acknowledged with a shrug.

Debate moved on to the issue of how to control a cultured pearl industry if it did get started. It wasn't long before someone said what almost everyone was thinking.

'Sooner or later, and probably right from the word go, the j.a.ps will control it,' shouted a master pearler and there was a murmur of agreement from practically all the whites present. The speaker went on, 'We've had enough trouble with the dummying operations of the j.a.panese. You can bet your life that they will be running any imitation pearl business, not us. So what's in it for us? Nothing.'

There was a burst of applause.

From the back of the hall came a polite call. 'Mr Chairman.' It was Mr Takahashi. All heads swivelled around as the chairman acknowledged the call. Mr Takahashi bowed slightly to the chairman. 'We have conducted our own discussions about this idea of Captain Tyndall and we are against the venture. We feel it will be bad for Broome business. No good for our divers, no good for business people and bring bad feelings between j.a.panese and Broome peoples. We say no start make pearls. We no let any j.a.panese start such an enterprise.' He sat down to loud applause.

All heads turned to Tyndall. Slowly he stood and spoke calmly. 'I understand what you are all saying. I believe you are wrong. You are short-sighted businessmen. Kokichi Mikimoto is a man with a vision, a dream and pa.s.sion. He can see the future. One day Broome will produce, by deliberate means, large perfect round pearls of a l.u.s.tre and quality that even people like my good friend here, Tobias Metta, will not be able to tell apart from a pearl brought up from the seabed by a diver.'

Tyndall didn't hang around after the meeting but retreated to his office and sat down to pour it all out in a letter to Olivia, but after half a page, he screwed it up, threw it over his shoulder and reached for the whisky bottle.

A few weeks later, Tyndall received a letter from Olivia which gave him no comfort.

Dear John, I read in the paper a report about the meeting over the pearl culture business. How distressing for you. The Mettas wrote me that you put up a spirited defence. Perhaps you are ahead of your time, John. These are hard times with the war getting worse and casualties beginning to add up. Be patient, your time will come I feel sure.

He added her letter to his stack and spoke aloud to the empty office with some bitterness. 'The only time that counts, Olivia, is time with you. And I have precious little of that to look forward to.'

Olivia longed for letters from Hamish, which were few and far between. When a fat one arrived from Port Said, she made herself tea and sat alone in the lounge room to savour it.

He explained it was an 'illegal' letter in that he was getting a friend to carry it and mail it so it wouldn't be censored. He talked of the great mates he'd made, of the strange places and people he had seen, of how he missed everybody back home ...

... especially you, dearest Mum. It's been a hard trip at sea for the horses ... we lost seventy-nine of them due to sickness and exhaustion between Australia and Bombay. We were recalled to Colombo and returned to Bombay to land the rest of the horses rather than lose the lot-we need them for haulage. We got our orders to the Dardanelles to help prepare the British Army IX corps for the landing on Suvla Bay. But we had no tugs or lighters so our unit made timber rafts to get men, stores, baggage and equipment ash.o.r.e. We were all loaded up ready to go when we got word someone had found us a tiny steamer, the Itria, Itria, which meant unloading and dismantling the rafts and reloading the lot onto the steamer. Once ash.o.r.e we had our only training in building pontoons and piers and the like--five days training, mind you! Now we've loaded pontoons and everything onto the which meant unloading and dismantling the rafts and reloading the lot onto the steamer. Once ash.o.r.e we had our only training in building pontoons and piers and the like--five days training, mind you! Now we've loaded pontoons and everything onto the Itria Itria for the proper' landings. What a job it's been but as our CO said, we refuse to be a.s.sociated with failure! for the proper' landings. What a job it's been but as our CO said, we refuse to be a.s.sociated with failure!

On 7 August, the Itria Itria anch.o.r.ed off the invasion beach under orders to locate sites for a pier. At dusk Hamish was in the first group to go ash.o.r.e and build a landing pier of barrels and timber. They'd had no rest for forty-eight hours, were under continuous attack by artillery and shrapnel fire and even had a bombing raid by a Taube aircraft. The anchorage was declared too hot and shifted. anch.o.r.ed off the invasion beach under orders to locate sites for a pier. At dusk Hamish was in the first group to go ash.o.r.e and build a landing pier of barrels and timber. They'd had no rest for forty-eight hours, were under continuous attack by artillery and shrapnel fire and even had a bombing raid by a Taube aircraft. The anchorage was declared too hot and shifted.

Hamish was then part of a group helping to disembark and land troops and their stores. No thought had been given to water supplies and thousands of troops were suffering thirst.

'It's as bad as being lost in the Nullarbor,' muttered one of the men to Hamish.

On August 12, the 'train' men were ordered to take over supplying water as well as their other duties. Hamish tried to ignore the sporadic fire from the ridge as they feverishly buried spare pontoons on the beach to use as water tanks, filling them from lighters with borrowed pumps and fire hoses from ships. Men who weren't killed or badly wounded succ.u.mbed to paratyphoid, jaundice, pneumonia and blood poisoning from flies and dirt on even minor wounds.

While Hamish was working at the base of the ridge, digging in a post to hold part of a line, a soldier a short way up the hill was shot from above and his body rolled down close to Hamish. Without thinking, in a burst of anger and frustration, Hamish picked up the soldier's rifle and crawled up the ridge. He lay by a boulder for some minutes before spotting movement against the skyline. He fired, and fired again, knowing he'd got the sniper and felt an immense elation and satisfaction as he scrambled back to his duties.

'You navy blokes aren't supposed to fight,' yelled an army officer, crouching and running past him, adding, 'Good b.l.o.o.d.y shot, by the way.'

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Hamish grinned at his mate who gave him the thumbs up and waded towards their lighter which was returning for more equipment. Hamish was about to scramble aboard, when he felt a sharp pain, a searing burning sensation in his back. He cried out, as the world went black and he slipped beneath the bloodstained water.

Everyone at Shaw House had gone into shock over the news of Hamish's death. Gilbert sat by Olivia, who refused any kind of sedative, as she talked and talked. He had no answer to her anguished questioning as to how G.o.d could be so cruel. What had she ever done to deserve such punishment? How could she go on?

Gilbert took her hand. 'You must and you will. Hamish was so proud of what you are doing here. You're helping others, didn't you say among his last words to you were to look after the girls?'

Olivia nodded, but in a small voice asked, 'Who's going to look after me?'

'I am, my dear. We all are. But you must help yourself, too. It's wartime, there is so much suffering. You have been struck a cruel blow, how you deal with this is the measure of where your life will go.'

'I don't care what happens anymore.'

'Olivia ... that isn't true. Listen to me. There is a young girl just arrived. She's pregnant and her husband, lover, I'm not sure, but she apparently adored him, has been killed. Help her. In doing so you will help yourself. Trust me.'

'Oh, Gilbert, how can I help her? I feel like telling her not to have the baby. It's not worth the pain of one day losing your child.'

Olivia collapsed in his arms and sobbed as he held her and murmured soothing words.

When news reached Tyndall of the death of Hamish, he quietly broke the news to Ahmed and then Yoshi and Taki who spread the word amongst the men who'd known the effervescent youngster. Tyndall's heart broke for Olivia, and he wanted to rush straight to her and comfort her but knew it was not his place. He struggled over a letter to her, trying to find the words to comfort her and make some sense of yet another loss in her life.

My dearest Olivia, I loved him too. After losing Maya, and your Conrad, Hamish became like a son to me. His love of the sea I like to think came from our happy days in Broome. How I wish I could ease, no, take on, the pain you must be suffering. So much promise, such hope, I find it hard for G.o.d to justify taking him. But so many good young men have been taken in this ghastly mess. Be proud of him, he didn't shirk his duty, and have faith there is some reason for all this. It hurts that I can't be more comfort to you. But I am with you, thinking of you, and remembering such happy times ... hold on to these, Olivia.

You know I will come in an instant should you need me.

Always, Tyndall Olivia had read the letter quickly, then stuffed it in the pocket of her skirt. Several times during the day she took it out and re-read it then resolutely put it away. The pa.s.sion and deep caring that jumped off the page touched her deeply. She realised that others had loved Hamish too, that he had touched other lives. Memories came ... of the boy riding on Ahmed's shoulders, trying on Yoshi's copper helmet, standing by the wheel with Tyndall. The shared memories of Hamish somehow helped keep him alive in more than her own heart and made her feel a little better.

Gilbert's patient understanding and wise advice penetrated the shroud of grief that enveloped Olivia and she steeled herself to go back to work and hide her pain, to try to get on with life in the hope that helping others might deflect her anguish and sense of loss. She asked Gilbert to tell everyone not to offer sympathy or pity. She returned to her duties and stoically looked on each minute of each day as a hurdle to be faced, overcome and the cycle repeated.

The staff respected Gilbert's request to avoid any mention of the death of Olivia's son. As Gilbert said, it was war time. Everyone knew someone who had suffered a loss. The best way to deal with life was to put yesterday behind you and go forward.

On her rounds the first morning back at work Olivia met the new girl in the room she shared with three others.