They talked, too, of barter and one of the Aboriginal elders asked Tyndall if he had brought a much desired new long-handled axe. Tyndall told the old man that he had indeed brought the axe and, what's more, a special stone for keeping it sharp. There was a nod of gratification from the old man who immediately launched into a long discussion with other Aborigines that Tyndall had trouble following, but it was connected with some future walkabout into the back country. Tyndall waited until he had nearly finished a mug of tea before turning the conversation back to the axe and payment.

To his surprise the Aboriginal elder pointed to Tyndall's pearl earring, gestured with cupped hands and pointed south. From his adequate grasp of the language, Tyndall was quickly able to gather that payment was to be the opportunity to harvest some mother-of-pearl and perhaps find a pearl or two at a spot only known to the tribe. The offer pleased Tyndall as much as it surprised him. The roll of the dice, he thought, might just be going my way.

Tyndall went back to the beach where his dinghy was anch.o.r.ed and without having called for him, Ahmed was suddenly at his side. Without a word they pushed the boat into the moonlit water and Ahmed took the oars. Ahmed had been in the camp of the Bugis men to hear news from the area he once called home. He had not been back since he was rescued by Tyndall two years ago from an uninhabited island in the Timor Sea. A cyclone had sunk the Broome pearling lugger Ahmed was working on and he had been the sole survivor. Ahmed believed Allah had sent Tyndall as his saviour and ever since had been his devoted and loyal offsider.

Good as their word, the following day several Aborigines set out with Tyndall and Ahmed in dugout canoes to travel down the coast to the place of the pearls. Ahmed and Tyndall were not as proficient paddling the canoe as the Aborigines were and they struggled to keep up. The bulky and crude dugouts slid down the coast, weaving between reefs and over sand bars until they came to where a swampy river emptied into the sea and mangroves shrouded the sh.o.r.eline. They pulled into sh.o.r.e and the men settled themselves on the narrow strip of grey sand amidst the sprouting tips of roots and mangrove shoots. They explained the water had to leave and so they waited.

When at last the tide ebbed, the men took long sticks and began prodding and wiggling for sh.e.l.l with their feet.

Soon, amid whoops of laughter, they picked up fat sh.e.l.ls, sealed tight and crusted with a covering of slimy growth and miniature crustaceans. Ahmed and Tyndall prised the sh.e.l.l halves apart to reveal the meat and muscle lying in the iridescent sh.e.l.l. Before long three sh.e.l.ls had yielded small gleaming round pearls which Tyndall slipped into his pocket with great satisfaction. They worked through the day, piling the dugouts with unopened sh.e.l.ls. Finally, as the tide rose, they pushed out and with the canoes low in the water paddled in the twilight back to the trepang island.

Tyndall was elated. Now he knew where the beds were he could make dry sh.e.l.l pearling a profitable sideline. What's more, the Aborigines had told him there were other pearl beds further south and out to sea.

An idea began to form in Tyndall's mind. Over the past twenty years pearling had become a highly lucrative activity despite periodic slumps in the world market for mother-of-pearl and disasters such as the cyclone that wiped out forty luggers and several hundred men. It was an industry pursued by wild risk takers who were fiercely compet.i.tive and secretive about the pearls they found. But if he had access to a rich source, aided by his friends' local knowledge, and a partner with capital he could expand to make this a serious operation and challenge the existing pearling masters.

That night as he sat by the fire with Ahmed he couldn't resist opening more sh.e.l.ls while the trepangers went about their work, the fascination of motherofpearl and the lure of possible pearl finds had him hooked. He rolled the shining mooncoloured globules in his palm and said at last to Ahmed, 'Friend, I'm thinking of becoming a pearler. We'll start off dry sh.e.l.ling with the schooner but hopefully we'll soon be able to get a new boat.'

Unfazed, Ahmed merely nodded. 'We build a number one lugger, tuan.'

'We'll work out of Cossack to start with, but no one must know about this place. Soon enough we'll make our way and head for Broome ... I think this is the break that I've been looking for.'

'It is fate, the time is right, tuan.'

Tyndall grinned at Ahmed's devout Muslim belief that fate ruled their lives and that there was little either of them could do to alter what was preordained. His calm acceptance of the good and the bad that life threw at them sometimes irked Tyndall, but right now he, too, felt the G.o.ds were on his side.

CHAPTER SIX.

Conrad Hennessy did not think of himself as a brave man. To him bold and brave men tackled feats he could only marvel at from the safety of his hearthside armchair. They were reckless, even fool-hardy in their quest to conquer and achieve. Yet in his modest way he knew he had courage of heart and, while not flamboyant, was steadfast and diligent. He had never imagined that he would win a bride as sweet and plucky as Olivia. And now here he was, crashing through wild terrain in a strange and inhospitable country, in charge of two large horses dragging a small wagon through bush where only a wild animal track existed.

Many times he had had to stop and, with the axe, hack a path for the small wagon he had acquired in Cossack after two days of searching and negotiation. His natural caution was cast aside in his desperation to reach Olivia, who would have been expecting him days ago. He tried not to think about the return journey with a pregnant wife and kept urging the horses forward, glad that he had bought bushwise and hardy animals. The journey on foot had been much further and rougher than it appeared on the basic map. From the brief conversations he had had in Cossack, he realised the north-west was very much more untamed than he'd imagined from afar. This might well offer opportunities to adventurers, the risk takers and brave men and women prepared to soldier through the hardships to establish a profitable new life, but he had hoped for a softer land, a little more order and more amenities. He hoped the land he had bought lived up to expectations and the favourable government report that had persuaded him to take this chance.

Deep in thought and trying to control the horses in the rough terrain, he didn't notice the log and boulder which lay across their path. The vague track fell away into a small dip, screened by the undergrowth and thick scrub. One horse stumbled and rolled onto its side bringing down the other horse and wagon.

Conrad was thrown clear and lay momentarily stunned as a frantic horse, pinned by the wagon, tried to get to its feet. Conrad rescued one horse but had to shoot the other. The wagon was damaged but the wheels functioned and after unharnessing the dead horse, he used the other to drag the wagon upright. Feeling shaky and dispirited he travelled on more slowly after checking his compa.s.s.For Olivia the time pa.s.sed slowly but she was not lonely or dispirited. The Aboriginal women, usually with their children, came to see her several times a day. They ensured she had food and water and in return seemed more than happy simply to be able to share the delights of the baby whom they fussed over with lots of chatter and laughter.

Olivia was surprised at how fast her strength returned and one morning took the baby with a group of women working the tidal fish trap. She sat on the sand as they hunted the trapped fish, watching the sandpipers dancing on the wet sand and the gannets diving for fish. She found herself pondering the unity of the whole scene-every one, every thing getting food, a natural harmony that was so enchanting and yet she was also conscious that she, a white woman from another world, really wasn't a meaningful part of it. She felt alien, but at the same time was aware of a yearning to belong. Nothing in her past experience had evoked such thoughts, and she mused on them while absently stroking her baby's head.

The next day when the tide was low, Olivia left camp for the fish trap before the Aborigines arrived, leaving the baby asleep in a little canvas shelter. As she approached a large flock of gannets and several pelicans arrived and began noisily feasting on the trapped fish. Waving her hat wildly and shouting at the birds, Olivia began to run towards the trap, and several Aborigines burst out of the scrub and chased after her, laughing and shouting with delight.

At this moment, Conrad crested the rise of a sand dune, and the spectacle of his beloved wife being pursued by natives waving their arms and spears and shouting was unbearably shocking. Surely he hadn't arrived at this last moment to witness his wife's murder! He lifted his rifle and fired.

However, the horse, slithering down the dune on its hindquarters, sent Conrad's shot astray. As he saw 'the black devils' bolt for cover, Conrad was amazed to see Olivia turn and run towards him now waving her arms.

He heard her voice echoing faintly across the beach, 'No! No, Conrad!'

Leaping from the wagon he ran to her, gathering her in his arms as she sobbed, 'They are friends, Conrad-they have helped me.'

'My dear, dear Olivia.' He held her tightly, overcome with relief. When he stepped back from her, he realised she was wearing only her undergarments, camisole and petticoat, her feet were bare, her hair loose about her shoulders, and then it hit him, the bulge of her belly was gone. He reached out and soundlessly touched her, feeling the loose softness of her flesh, no tightness of skin over a body stretched wildly out of shape.

Olivia smiled tenderly, and took his hand. 'It's all right, Conrad, come with me.'

Excitedly she led him to her shelter as he mumbled at the nightmare the trip had been, how he'd feared for her safety, trying to grapple with the idea she had given birth. She pulled him down to his knees and, reaching inside the little tent, drew out the bark dishlike cradle in which the baby was sleeping. She lifted the torn petticoat covering the infant.

'We have a son, Conrad,' she said gently.

He touched the baby's cheek, loathe to disturb him. 'But how did you manage my dear? Alone, here ... oh it must have been dreadful.'

Olivia calmed him. 'No, I had good care. The women, the Aboriginal women, they looked after me.'

Conrad stared at her aghast, realising he had fired on these people.

Olivia touched his hand. 'You'd better see to the horse, and I'll put the pot on to boil. Don't worry too much about the shot. I'm sure they'll come back. Perhaps we can make amends with them in some way. Oh, I have so much to tell you.'

'And I you,' he said, suddenly feeling exhausted. 'It is a miracle I am here. I really don't know how we are going to forge our way back again. It is truly ugly country to travel through. This coming ash.o.r.e was not a good idea.'

She pressed his hand. 'Conrad dear, the Lady Charlotte Lady Charlotte ... it has been wrecked. All are lost. We did make the right decision.' ... it has been wrecked. All are lost. We did make the right decision.'

He shuddered and held her close.

'Don't worry, Conrad,' pleaded Olivia. 'Just see the bright side-we have a son.'

Olivia returned to the beach and collected two fish that had been thrown onto the sand. She called out to the Aborigines. Even though there was no response of any kind, she felt sure they were watching.

Conrad led the horse to a patch of shade, tethered it and contemplated the wagon stuck in the sand. He asked Olivia for some water and looked at the near empty barrel of water. 'Maybe they can show us where we can find water. We will need this replenished for the journey.'

'Conrad, stop worrying. Come and rest, the fish will be cooked soon. Now tell me. What is the town like?'

Conrad bit his Up. 'A ramshackle place I'm afraid. Not what I expected, but we can get all the supplies we need. There are sheep arriving in a week or so on one of the trading vessels. I plan to buy some to start us off. I think we should set out as soon as you feel ready, my dear. I don't think you'll be too comfortable in Cossack, I mean, there are very few women and it's a bit of a rough place.'

'I understand. I'll do what you think best, Conrad. You know, I've learned so much from these people. I do hope there are tribespeople close to our farm.'

Conrad stared at her in astonishment. He hadn't antic.i.p.ated sharing his land with the blacks. He didn't want his precious stock stolen or hunted nor the fear of reprisals or attack at any time. 'We'll see.' He smoothed the baby's head. 'He is a handsome child, Olivia.'

They exchanged their first relaxed smile. 'Pick him up Conrad, he won't break.'

Later, after their meal, Olivia walked to the sea to throw the fish bones into the water and to look for some sh.e.l.lfish. Conrad sat at the camp with his son in his lap, examining the small fingers and toes. Suddenly a shadow fell across him. Looking up in surprise he saw three Aboriginal women staring at him. They had bemused expressions at seeing the man cradling the baby. They crouched before him, squatting down to touch the baby and point to Conrad's face. When they started chattering in their own language, Conrad guessed he was being discussed and immediately felt uncomfortable and awkward. He tried to smile at them, and they broke out in laughter. When Olivia eventually appeared he was much relieved.

She took the baby and handed him to the women, who nodded with satisfaction, smiled and patted his round belly.

Conrad tried not to look at the swaying b.r.e.a.s.t.s of these women or the barely modest gra.s.s covering over their private parts. Some of them wore woven arm bands but they were, on the whole, totally unadorned and unclothed. But there was no mistaking the goodwill they exuded. He patted his son's head, pointed to Olivia and then said carefully to the women, 'Thank you.'

They laughed again and Olivia took Conrad's hand and held it out to the oldest woman who had delivered the baby and joined their hands together. She understood the gesture and nodded solemnly. Then, picking up their string baskets and dilly bags, the women headed to the beach to collect the fish from the trap.

Conrad watched them and remarked, 'Ingenious idea, that wall. Do you suppose we could get it across to them that we need to find fresh water?'

Olivia picked up the baby which had started to whimper and began to loosen her camisole. 'Take the empty barrel to them and show them the water that's left. I'm sure they'll understand. Their camp can't be too far away.'

'Yes, I'll do that.' Conrad turned his eyes away from Olivia's exposed breast, fetched the water barrel and carried it along the beach to the women.

Olivia closed her eyes as the baby suckled contentedly, then as she changed the baby to the other breast she heard a footfall behind her and turned to see if Conrad had had success with the water and found instead she was staring up at the tall figure of Captain John Tyndall, the man from the schooner.

He coughed discreetly and averted his eyes as she pulled her top about her.

'Oh excuse me,' he said a little awkwardly. 'I saw the smoke from the fire and realised you were still here, so thought I'd see if you were all right.' He looked down at Olivia seated on the ground, her bare toes peeping out from the now ragged hem of her petticoats, the baby at her breast, her hair falling softly about her pretty face. Bedraggled though she was, it was a heartwarming picture. 'I see you are doing very well. Congratulations. How did you cope with having the baby on your own?'

She gave him a hesitant smile. 'I had help. The Aboriginal women were wonderful ... they just came out of nowhere to help me.'

He nodded and refrained from mentioning his talk with the elders on his previous visit. 'And your husband, what news?'

'He arrived back this afternoon, he is looking for water with the women.'

Tyndall looked about the camp and saw the wagon further along the beach. 'I'm amazed he made it through. I believe the country is very rugged.'

'Yes, he says it's going to be difficult returning with us all. He arrived and started shooting at the Aborigines, which was an unfortunate misunderstanding.'

'He didn't wound or kill anyone, did he?' asked Tyndall, looking concerned. 'He could find himself with a spear through his leg or worse. They have a payback system.'

'Oh, dear me. No, no one was hurt. Do you suppose he is all right?' Olivia peered anxiously towards the beach.

'I'll go see,' he said, striding away.

The two men returned together a short time later deep in animated conversation. When they stopped to inspect the wagon, Olivia laid her sleeping baby down and went over to join them.

'Hullo there, my dear,' Conrad greeted her. 'What a stroke of luck Captain Tyndall found us. Saw the smoke, he said.'

'Did you find water?'

'The women showed me a small spring, very fortunate.'

'And we made our peace with the menfolk,' added Tyndall.

'He speaks their tongue,' said Conrad, impressed.

John Tyndall turned to the wagon. 'I doubt that horse and wagon will make the return trip,' said the Captain dubiously. 'I suggest you allow me to carry you back to Cossack. My schooner could take you and your belongings, I believe.'

'That's a kind and generous offer,' said Conrad, but Olivia looked worried. 'Don't you think so, Olivia?'

'I don't like the idea of going back to sea.'

'Believe me, Mrs Hennessy, the seas have gone down and it will be a lot easier and quicker.'

'Well, if Conrad agrees. That would be very kind of you.'

They were under way late the next morning after Ahmed had brought ash.o.r.e food from the galley-a fish curry and some rice. That night she slept in a narrow berth in the cabin of the Shamrock Shamrock which was cramped, hot and stuffy. She found herself almost pining for the rough tree and crude canvas shelter by the comforting light of her campfire and insect repelling smudge fire. which was cramped, hot and stuffy. She found herself almost pining for the rough tree and crude canvas shelter by the comforting light of her campfire and insect repelling smudge fire.

The next day Olivia sat quietly on the deckhouse holding her son, who was yet to be named. Conrad stood beside John Tyndall at the helm while Ahmed, on the bowsprit, guided them through the mangrovelined stretch of Butcher's Inlet. They had brought what they could with them, leaving the rest at the campsite and releasing the horse into the scrub.

Out on the water, the heat sapped her energy almost immediately, hitting her like the blast from a fire. Jarman Island, four miles offsh.o.r.e, served the estuary as a breakwater and most ships sheltered here due to the near fifteenfeet tidal drop and pa.s.sengers and cargo were rowed ash.o.r.e. However Tyndall and Ahmed sailed carefully but confidently into the creek and anch.o.r.ed at Deep Hole jetty on the opposite side of the creek to the township, where they could remain afloat.

Stepping ash.o.r.e in Cossack, she felt too tired and dispirited to find anything positive about the bustling shanty town built on a strip of sand, surrounded by mangrove swamps and rocky hills. Several stone public buildings-the customs house and post office-gave some air of permanence but Olivia was disturbed to see a row of buildings with solid chains strung over the roofs and bolted into the ground around the foundations.

She glanced at Tyndall, who shrugged. 'w.i.l.l.y w.i.l.l.i.e.s-winds can get pretty high in a cyclone.'

Settling Conrad and Olivia in a sulky, Tyndall gave them a swift tour of Cossack while Ahmed loaded their belongings on a dray to take to Tyndall's house.

The township crouched between two hills, Nannygoat on the eastern side and Reader Head, a crag that overlooked the sea. From the south a cause-way ran through the mangroves to Roebourne. There was a wooden church and a couple of stores but by far the most active and colourful section was the Chinese quarter, also known as 'j.a.p town' which spread out towards the western boundary near the cemetery. They drove past the Chinese stores, the Indian tailor, a j.a.panese store, a Chinese bakery, a Turkish bathhouse, opium dens and j.a.panese pleasure houses. Sly grog shops were plentiful and obvious. Some of the houses were little more than humpies, while the Aborigines, he said, had set up their mia-mias mia-mias further out on the edge of town. further out on the edge of town.

Olivia thought that the people of differing races all seemed coa.r.s.e and disreputable and she only saw two women, a tiredlooking older European woman and a painted j.a.panese girl in garish kimono who swiftly disappeared into a dim house.

That evening after Olivia and Conrad were settled in Tyndall's simple but functional house they talked over their plans for the immediate future.

Conrad wished to go to their land as soon as possible but worried about Olivia's strength. 'You should be resting, with someone caring for you and the child. But I am loathe to see us stay too long here. They say the wet season is horrendous and I was hoping we would be settled in our place before then.'

Olivia still felt a little weary from the birth and the voyage but she had no hesitation in agreeing to move forward. The prospect of staying in the seamy town didn't appeal to her and, as hard as establishing their new home might be, it was preferable. 'I think we should set out then, Conrad. You know, seeing how the Aboriginal women live has made me look at things differently. It's hard to explain, but I got a sense that it's better to be part of the country rather than trying to keep it apart from us. And I felt good being up and walking on the beach rather than lying in a dark room. So, I say let us go. I'll try to pull my weight as best I can.'

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, feeling a deep love and pride. 'You just care for yourself and the baby. One day I promise you'll have a grand home and the beautiful garden you've always wanted.'

'Let's start with a roof over our heads first,' smiled Olivia. 'I wonder what the little cottage on the farm is like.'

Neither was prepared for the harsh reality that confronted them. The trek to the land they had bought was slow and difficult. A team of horses pulled their wagon along a sand and dirt track and, by following their rough and inadequate map, they eventually located the area they presumed to be their acreage. Some of the land was as described, and could hopefully carry sheep, but most was rough country. Thankfully, the permanent waterhole and creek were as marked.

The 'cottage' was built from slab timber and bark packed with a mud made from old termite colonies, with a hard dirt floor and a verandah front and back. Its galvanised iron roof was covered by a thick thatch of brush for coolness. Wooden shutters on greenhide hinges acted as windows for the two large rooms. A lean-to attached to the back had a fireplace with mudbrick chimney. Several pieces of rough hewn furniture remained and the hand of a woman was unmistakable-a dog rose rambled up one side of this sad looking home and brought a lump to Olivia's throat. She plucked a flower and inhaled its delicate scent, wondering what had become of the family that had started here with such dreams and hopes. She looked about with sagging spirit and wondered if they would fare any better.

'I suppose we can be glad squatters haven't moved in,' said Conrad, desperately trying to make some light remark in the face of this shock. 'It seems things are not quite as we were told in Fremantle.'

'Well, we'd better do something before dark,' said Olivia briskly, shifting the baby in her arms while trying to hide the disappointment and twinge of fear eating into her heart. Using her skirt, she attempted to wipe a thick layer of dust from a stool, and sat to feed the baby. Conrad went to the wagon to haul down the first of the supplies but instead rested his head against the load and closed his eyes in pain and frustration as he felt scalding tears burn against his lids.

A few days later, with the help of the two hired hands who arrived with another dray of gear, things were better organised and Olivia had even managed to prepare an evening meal of bully beef and damper and a simple pudding made with dried fruits and sugar. Roses in the centre of the rough table gave a festive air and the soft glow from the kerosene lantern disguised the harshness of their surroundings. The baby, now known as James, slept in his cradle close to Olivia's feet.

Conrad put down his mug of sweet black tea and took Olivia's hand. 'Olivia dear, I think perhaps we should give thanks to the good Lord for this meal and ask that he bless our home.' Remembering the simple prayers of his father, Conrad bowed his head and said, 'Thank you, Lord, for this food upon our table, the roof over our head and for your guidance and protection.'

Olivia whispered 'Amen' and thought of the Reverend Albert Cochrane back in London and wished he could christen the baby. While it was a simple thanksgiving she believed Conrad's dedication to work would see mat they achieved their goals.

But as the weeks went by, and Conrad inspected their land more closely, they discovered the terrain was worse than they thought and would prove difficult for sheep or cattle. The waterhole was not big and a place for a well would need to be found. It was apparent the last wet season had not been a good one. The country was hot and dry and the only things that flourished were the flies. Their first sheep were soon due to arrive in Cossack and Conrad planned to ride to town with one of his stockmen to bring them back, as he knew nothing about handling stock and was ill at ease on a horse. He had also hired John Tyndall to bring the rest of their goods and extra supplies out to them by dray when his next shipment arrived from Fremantle.

In the soaring heat of a summer's morning, Olivia worked in their small house. She was tired from lack of sleep, as James had been fretful and cried most of the previous night. Conrad was completing the shed he was building, while the two hired men were across the property, fencing a holding paddock around a dam. At midmorning she tied Conrad's lunch of pickled meat and damper in a small cloth and prepared to take it to him with a billycan of hot tea. She checked the baby, who was sleeping in a cradle crudely fashioned from a wooden box and set up near their bed. Normally she carried him with her in a sling like she'd seen the Aboriginal women use, as it kept him calm and seemed to stop his fretfulness by being close to her body. But for once he was sleeping well after a long feed instead of short bursts of fussy eating. She decided to leave him where he was and set out to where Conrad was working.

Conrad was having difficulty stretching a length of wire and asked Olivia to help. They worked together, talking little, until the task was finished.

Wiping his brow Conrad looked about him. 'A hot wind has sprung up,' he observed, then smiled at her, 'Come and share my lunch.'

'I've eaten, and I've left James sleeping.'