The Pearler’s Wife: A gripping historical novel of forbidden love, family secrets and a lost moment in history. Roxane Dhand
gentlemen of the press, are the men to end it.’
His fervour ignited the crowd. Amid a flurry of enthusiastic applause, a spiky-haired reporter thrust up his hand and shouted, ‘Mr Farmount! Ray Jones, Perth Advertiser. How long do you think it will take to drive the coloured fellers out?’
Farmount glanced sideways and nodded at the divers. ‘We’ve settled on a year to do the job, but we anticipate that it won’t take that long.’
‘Well said!’ a voice yelled from the crowd.
Maisie moved in her chair, looking from Mrs Wallace to Mr Farmount and back again. She knew so little about Australia – there had been no time to research – but she did know that this felt wrong.
‘Surely they should show more respect towards the men they are trying to replace,’ she said, not knowing anything about the white dominance of the coloured population. Mrs Wallace, padded in purple gingham, was nodding vigorously and banging her cotton-gloved fingers together in enthusiastic support of Mr Farmount’s speech.
Another hand shot up. ‘Pete Ramsey, Fremantle Chronicle. Can I get the names of all these brave English blokes, sir?’
Mr Farmount turned to the group and named the twelve men in turn, the last of whom was introduced as William Cooper, the most experienced diver in the team.
‘Can we get a few words, sir?’
Craning forward for a better view, Maisie recognised the man who had pushed to the front as the panther from the card game. His hair was as black as coal and even with the sun on his face, his eyes were dark and proud. She thought again of a sleek cat, crouching in the long grass, prey between its claws, and shrank back, her heart banging against her ribcage. Its excessive beating seemed to throw her balance and she felt as if she might faint.
With one arm draped around the diver’s neck, Mr Farmount slicked back his brilliantined hair with his free hand and wiped the excess grease down the side of his trousers. ‘William Cooper is the British Royal Navy’s finest diver. He has pioneered the use of my company’s engine-driven air compressor on his deep-sea dives, which will further prove that the day of the darky hand-pump deck-boy is done! We have brought this wonder machine with us and will use it to great effect on the luggers in Buccaneer Bay. We will show you all just what English manufactured equipment and the white diver can do.’
William Cooper stepped forward and shook the hair out of his eyes, exuding the casual assurance of someone who was used to the limelight.
Maisie fiddled with her gloves. ‘Have you heard of that diver William Cooper, Mrs Wallace?’
Mrs Wallace wedged her frame deeper into her chair and smoothed her dress over her bosom. ‘Do you not read the newspaper, Maisie?’
Maisie opened her mouth and closed it again. She knew if she were patient there would be more. Mrs Wallace was like a bottle of beer – once shaken up and the cap released, the contents couldn’t help but bubble out.
‘Mr Farmount told me he’s one of the Admiralty’s top operatives and has dived throughout the Mediterranean, wresting lost treasure from sunken ships. He’s unmarried – but has a keen eye for the ladies – and is reputed to be as tough as kangaroo meat, which is why he was wanted for this exercise. Now do be quiet, Maisie, dear. He’s going to say something.’
William Cooper flashed a brilliant smile at the reporters, and shouted to make himself heard over the music. ‘It is true. It is absolutely true what Mr Farmount has said. We are all British Royal Navy trained, and the depths in Buccaneer Bay are shallow compared to the depths we are used to. We have been given a challenge, and frankly, we can’t wait to pick up the gauntlet that has been thrown down. We want to get started right away and prove that the faith the Australian government has placed in us is not misguided.’
‘Hear! Hear!’ Mrs Wallace boomed. ‘Hear! Hear!’
Maisie wore her confusion on her face. ‘Mrs Wallace, I’m not sure I understand. I mean, just because these men are white, will they really be able to do it better than the men who have been doing it for years?’
Mrs Wallace removed her spectacles, her expression turning serious. ‘Maisie, you have a lot to learn, just as I did when I first came out here. The Australian government finds the reality of a coloured workforce unpalatable and is keen to seek a viable alternative. These English divers represent the answer to everyone’s prayers. Your future husband will be thinking these exact same thoughts and I’m sure that, as his wife, you will realise this soon enough when you are trying to staff a house with Japs, Malays and Binghis.’
‘Binghis?’
‘Aborigines. The Indigenous population. The average black fellow is reasonably honest until he takes a fancy to your gin bottle, at which point he will most likely turn into a mad savage. He could come at you with a tomahawk!’
Maisie tried not to betray her anxiety. ‘I thought that was what they used in the Americas.’
Mrs Wallace clicked her tongue. ‘Keep your smart comments to yourself, Maisie, until you know more about what you are saying. The Australian nation needs protection from these people and the Asian hordes invading in their droves from the north. All those Japanese and Malays – it simply can’t go on. Australia is a vulnerable island, Maisie. It is quite right that we try to keep our drawbridge up.’
Since that evening weeks ago, when the girl had come down to C Deck, William Cooper had been unable to put her out of his mind.
After that, sitting in the dark, night after night, he had looked up from his hand of cards and stretched his neck towards the first-class promenade deck.
He’d seen her for the very first time at the lifeboat drill. Even now, at the end of the voyage, that still bothered him. The SS Oceanic had been at sea for twenty-four hours before the passengers were shown what to do if the ship went down. Perhaps it was because he knew the sea that he found such negligence unfathomable. Cold, black water was no-one’s friend. It wouldn’t answer your cries for help or buoy you up when you knew you were sinking. He knew to respect the sea; everyone who earned his living from it did.
A good two hours had passed since the pressmen left the ship.
He leaned back against the metal chair, feeling the push of a bolt head against his spine. It was hot, holding the full day’s heat. He shifted a little to the side, easing his weight off his back, and let his hands drop loose by his sides.
Seeing her today on the deck listening to his speech, he’d felt like he was talking to her. Explaining why he’d come to Australia. He’d watched her draw in a breath, though, a cloud coming over her face at something he’d said. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes slightly, a frown appearing over the bridge of her nose.
William Cooper wondered where she was going. Was this her final stop? What would he say to her if ever they were to meet? What would her voice sound like? Would she even notice him?
His shirt stuck in damp patches to his back.
Maisie picked at the rumpled fabric on the chair’s armrest in the first-class lounge. ‘I know we change ships here in Port Fremantle, Mrs Wallace, but shall we move onto the coastal steamer tonight?’
‘Goodness no, dear. We shall stay in a hotel for a few days to gather our strength for the return to the north-west coast. I’m not quite sure if the coastal steamer even works on an exact timetable. Here we shall be ladies of leisure.’
Maisie dabbed at her face with the side of her hand. Although the portholes had been thrown wide open, the lounge was boiling hot and she was gently cooking inside her English wool travelling suit. She had already removed the long-line jacket but was still buttoned up to the neck in a silk blouse and tie. She parted her legs under the floor-length skirt and tried to subtly flap the fabric.
‘Haven’t we done that for six weeks already on this ship?’
‘Don’t be in too great a hurry to embrace your new life, Maisie. It might not