Tears of the Moon (52 page)

It was on their way back to port on the last trip of the season that Tyndall made the decision to look into the Mikimoto success story. The Bulan was running easily with the wind almost astern and Tyndall and Yoshi were relaxing by the helm enjoying a smoke.

They hadn’t spoken for some time, but were quietly enjoying fair sailing and the peace of a fine day at sea.

‘How about a trip home, Yoshi?’ Tyndall suddenly asked.

‘Home, Cap’n?’ queried Yoshi without any visible reaction.

‘Yeah. Japan. See your family, friends.’

Yoshi had been home only once, and that was from Thursday Island, before he had come to work in Broome. Most of his money, though, went back to Japan. He drew on his cigarette, and Tyndall waited patiently.

‘Contract. No time for trip, Cap’n.’ Yoshi never wasted words and in any case he was bound by his contract for several more years.

‘But it’s a nice idea?’ added Tyndall and Yoshi
smiled. He now understood the white boss was teasing him. Western humour still puzzled him. Tyndall turned and caught him grinning.

‘Well,’ Tyndall went on, ‘I’m thinking of going to Japan in the wet, and I’d like you to come along. The firm will pay. But we’ll have to do some work while we’re there. What do you reckon?’

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 Japan. 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 shell 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 Japanese. 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 shore 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 shell 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 passion 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 circumstances. 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 pass 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 assembled 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 wangled a transfer and was drafted to Melbourne to join a unit of the ‘train’ about to be shipped out on the transport,
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 shell 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 Japanese crews. A powerful band of Japanese proprietors and merchants acted as bankers for the Japanese divers and crews who were engaged in gambling, selling snide pearls or dummying. Officially, a Japanese 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 Japanese hold on the industry was regarded as ‘too hard’. The Japanese 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 screwing 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 shell 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.