Beautiful Lies (6 page)

Archer would prefer walking naked through a bonfire to donning the canvas diver's suit and copper helmet, but he didn't point that out, sure that if he acknowledged any
weakness in front of the crew, it would come back to haunt him. “Don't fool around for too long,” he said gruffly. “We have more important things to do than give you a little underwater holiday.”

“It best he not stay down long first time,” Juan said. “We bring him up, he wants to come or not.”

Tom was wearing two layers of flannel pajamas in addition to the flannel wrapping, as well as two pairs of thick wool socks. Now, with the gnarled and lame Toshiharu's help, he donned woolen drawers and a sweater, and over them a long pair of wool stockings that reached to the tops of his thighs.

“You step in suit now,” Juan instructed. “Then we fix.”

Tom did, and the men pulled the suit around his feet, encasing them snugly before pulling it up and over his shoulders. Tom thrust his hands through the greased rubber cuffs and stood silently as they adjusted the rubber collar around his neck. Juan led him to the hatch, and he sat as Juan and Toshiharu shoved on the diver's boots with their fourteen-pound lead soles. As they did, Bernard sank the plumper, the line that would help guide him to the bottom.

Bernard lifted the copper corselet off the deck and held it in front of Tom's face. Tom grinned, and Bernard set it over his head and carefully screwed it down over the rubber collar of his suit, checking once, then again, to be certain every nut, every screw and valve, was in place and in working order. “Him ready-fellow.”

Archer had an odd sensation in the center of his belly. “You're sure you want to do this?”

“You bet.”

Juan moved forward again, repeating last-minute instructions, as Tom listened carefully. Then, at Juan's nod, he turned and plodded slowly to the side. He lowered him
self to the rope ladder and carefully descended until his corselet was even with the rail. Bending over, Bernard set a mantle of weights over his chest and back to keep Tom from capsizing if he lost his balance underwater. Then, after making sure the air pipe was unobstructed and the lifeline rose properly from its position on the back of the suit, Bernard lifted the bell-shaped helmet and screwed it down over the corselet.

Now all that was visible was Tom's features through the square glass opening. On deck the two Malayan boys bent to the pump wheel, and air began to hiss into the helmet. Toshiharu held the air pipe, and Bernard, after making some adjustments in the helmet valves, grasped the lifeline and nodded.

Tom hesitated for a moment; then he pitched himself off the ladder backwards into the water.

“Now we see if he remember good,” Juan told Archer.

Tom flailed for a moment, and Archer almost expected him to overcompensate and flip face down into the water. But after a moment he seemed to relax. He adjusted the valve at the side of his helmet; then, as if he'd done it all his life, he held tight to the plumper and began to descend to the ocean floor.

“Your friend be a real sailor,” Juan said. “He belong here with us.”

Archer felt the quiet sting in the Manilaman's words. “I gather you don't think the same of me?”

Juan lifted an eyebrow. “You looking for pearl. He is looking for better something.” He moved off to consult with Bernard, and Archer was left by himself to watch the bubbles from Tom's suit dance along the ocean surface.

 

Evening was Tom's favorite time aboard the
Odyssey.
When the final flagrant rays of sunset faded away and the
anchor had been set for the evening, the lugger rocked lazily, and the men, tired from their chores, settled along their favorite places on deck to consume Wong Fai's curried fish and rice, and drink countless cups of strong tea fresh from the cooking fire.

Tom liked to listen to their conversations. He was becoming adept at the clever pidgin that united them despite the variety of their native tongues. He particularly enjoyed conversations with Juan, whose English was far superior to Tom's Spanish. Juan was an educated man with a taste for poetry and a talent for guitar, which made the long evenings easier to bear.

Juan joined Tom after dinner on the evening of his first dive, offering his slice of tinned beef, which was an infrequent item on their shipboard menu.

Tom smiled but shook his head. “I can't take that. You need every bit of meat. You work hard. I found that out today.”

“Today you work hard, too. Take it.”

Tom complied with murmured thanks. “I've never seen anything like it, Juan. A whole world out of reach to everybody but those lucky enough to go below.”

“How is your ears?”

Tom swallowed to test them. The pressure had been fierce, and he had been stunned to discover blood seeping from his ear canals when he surfaced. His nose had bled, too. But both had stopped quickly. He had not gone too deep, and he had not stayed under long. Bernard believed that bringing divers up slowly was safest, and it seemed to Tom that he had spent much more time going down and coming up than exploring.

But he had found shell.

“Ears good?” Juan asked.

“They seem fine.”

“Crew say it's good luck, you find shell below. Say you be luck for this lugger.”

Tom laughed, and the sound rattled oddly in his head. “I'm afraid if we had to count on my finding shell, we'd go home with our hold half empty. There's a real art to seeing it. I don't know what led me to the few I picked up.”

“God of the shell?”

Tom inclined his head. “Do you believe in such a thing?”

“No. Nobody believes.”

Tom laughed again, and Juan smiled. They finished in silence, each enjoying the other's company. The other men were scattered over the deck. Archer was throwing dice with Toshiharu and Ahmed, the older of the two Malayan boys. Archer never seemed to lose, and the crew members had quickly learned not to play him for anything more than a pinch of tobacco.

Tom set his plate to one side and leaned back to stare at the stars. When he had decided to accompany Archer on his travels, he had not considered what he might do with all the years ahead of him. Despite his father's threats, he knew that his old life waited for him back in San Francisco if he wanted to reclaim it. At first he had half planned to go back after Archer was settled. He felt a duty to his parents, even though he had little affection for them.

But now, with the moon glistening like a celestial pearl on the calm water, the boat rocking gently beneath him, the men's voices murmuring in the cool evening air, he wondered if what he really wanted was to stay in Broome, acquire a lugger and make his own fortune. He was happier than he could remember. The pearling life suited him. Broome, with its colorful cultures, suited him. Aus
tralia, with its frontier values, its infinite and ancient stretches of land, its wondrous animal and plant life, suited him.

“I met a woman in Broome.” He didn't look at Juan. “She was Chinese. Lian, the daughter of Sing Chung, at the laundry on Dampier Terrace. Could a man marry a woman like that in Broome?”

“Color bar in town. Not so good to mix. White people not approve. They not understand and turn back on you.”

“Is that so?” Tom wasn't surprised.

“Girl want to marry you?”

“No, it was only a question. She's going to China to marry a stranger. She'll probably be gone by the time I return.”

“Not so. Sing Chung die soon. She be there to care for him meantime. Still be there when we return.”

“How do you know that, Juan?”

“Crew makes bet. Every man want her.”

Tom grinned. He wondered if Lian knew she had a boatload of admirers. “The nice thing about Broome is that if a man was shunned by his own people, there would be plenty of others who would be his friends.”

Juan got up and went to get his guitar. He came back to sit beside Tom and strum. “'Nother lugger in distance. Riding light there.” Juan pointed out to sea.

Tom followed the direction of Juan's finger and squinted into the darkness. Finally, after a moment of total concentration, he saw a tiny dot of light from a lantern at the top of a distant masthead.

Since leaving Broome the crew had seen other luggers. Although there were many miles of ocean, the pearling boats worked the same grounds. Several times they had even gotten close enough to spend an evening in each other's company.

“Too bad they're so far away,” Tom said. “It would liven up our night if they were closer.”

Juan put down his guitar and sidled to the railing. He stared for a long moment. Archer and the others, sensing that something was up, abandoned their game and joined him.

“Dinghy coming,” Juan said at last.

“Really?” Tom joined them. “So we'll have company after all.” Juan's eyes were sharper than his, and moments passed before he saw the rowboat approaching.

Juan stepped back. “Nakanishi, the diver. From the
Sophia.
One of Somerset's fleet. Two others in boat.”

“Somerset's fleet?” Archer asked, interest in his voice.

“Big camp down on coast at Pikuwa Creek.” Juan pointed to the east. “Mother ship comes to pearling grounds when month begins and brings supplies.”

Archer grinned at Tom and rubbed his hands together. “A night of gambling for me. With Somerset's men, yet. Maybe I'll own the company before I'm finished.”

“Better watch it, Archer. I don't know those men. I can't stop them from throwing you overboard if you win everything they bring with them.”

Archer laughed and gazed back out at the water where the dinghy was now just a hundred yards away. “I don't know, they look—” Archer stopped, leaning forward. “Good God!” Then, before anyone could ask him what was wrong, he stepped up on the railing and made a clean dive into the water.

He surfaced several yards from the lugger. “Launch the dinghy!” he yelled. Then he put his head down and started to swim.

“Jesus, what's he doing?” Tom yelled. “Archer, turn around!”

“Man fall in.” Juan pointed at the dinghy, which had
stopped now. Only two men were left inside. Tom could just see a head bobbing in the water many yards from it. “He stands up and falls in,” Juan said. “Nakanishi.”

“Well, why aren't they trying to get him?”

“Waves picking up and pushing boat toward us, away from him.”

“Juan, that water's freezing. Archer's not that good a swimmer. He's not going to make it.”

Juan didn't seem perturbed. Tom glanced at the diver's face and saw the truth. If Archer rescued Nakanishi, that would be fine. If he went down, that would be fine, too.

Tom readied himself to dive, but strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back to the deck. “Boat belong boat, he go long. You-me, stay.”

Tom tried to push Bernard away, but the man's massive arms tightened. “You-me stay.”

Behind him, Tom heard the others launching the dinghy to help rescue the two men.

“He makes it,” Juan said, as if he were talking about something of no consequence. “Archer, he swims better than you think. Nakanishi, he find drink tonight and have too much. Or he got touch of diver's sickness.”

Tom saw that Juan was right. Archer was only yards from Nakanishi, who was inexpertly treading the water. Out of his diving suit he had little rapport with the waves.

Bernard released Tom, and Tom saw there was no point in throwing himself in to help. The
Sophia
's dinghy was closing in on the two men; the
Odyssey
's dinghy with Toshiharu and the two Malayan boys was on its way. And Archer, with the reflexes and impulses of daredevils the world around, had reached Nakanishi and was now helping him stay afloat.

“Nakanishi, he makes Somerset a rich man. Somerset,
he not want to lose him. He hears of this, he be glad. He make Archer glad, too.”

Tom wondered if, in the split second before he dove into the water, Archer had thought of that. There were sharks in this water and other menaces besides. But once again, Archer hadn't hesitated to risk his life.

He pushed down the thought that Archer had only jumped in to rescue Nakanishi so he could bathe in Somerset's good graces. It had to be a coincidence that Nakanishi was Somerset's diver, and that Somerset was the father of the woman Archer jokingly claimed he would marry.

“Do you believe in coincidence?” he asked Juan.

“All things have purpose.” Juan shook his head. “But sometimes, man makes own purpose.”

Tom watched silently as Archer struggled to keep the Japanese diver's head above water as the dinghies grew closer, and he wondered where Archer would be right now if the man in the water had been anyone else.

V
iola Somerset was even more beautiful up close than from a distance. Her long golden lashes shadowed eyes the same vivid shade as her blue-green gown, and her features were delicately executed. When Sebastian introduced Viola to Archer, one finely molded eyebrow lifted just a fraction of an inch before she held out a gloved hand.

“You're the man who saved Nakanishi's life.”

Archer took her hand and made a quick bow, but he grinned as he did, to belie the formal gesture. “I'm not certain I saved him, but we did have a nice chat while we were floating in the water waiting for the dinghy.”

Sebastian, dressed in the blinding white of the pearling master, interrupted. “Don't let Mr. Llewellyn tease you, Viola. If it weren't for him, my best diver would be at the bottom of the ocean—and
not
gathering shell.”

“How courageous you were,” Viola murmured to Archer. “What makes a man risk his life for a stranger? And with no thought of reward.” The same eyebrow rose higher.

“He was in trouble, and I was there. There was nothing
complicated about it, Miss Somerset. I would have done the same for you.”

She smiled sweetly. “I'll sleep better at night knowing as much.”

Sebastian gestured toward the parlor door. “I see someone I must greet. I'll leave you two to become acquainted. Viola, please don't forget that you're to sit on Freddy's right at dinner.”

Archer heard the steel in Somerset's voice and saw the flicker of rebellion in his daughter's eyes.

“How could I forget, father dear? For the past three days you've reminded me every time the clock strikes.”

“That seldom motivates you, does it?” He excused himself and left them alone.

“My father and I are not the best of friends,” Viola told Archer. “Freddy Colson is his assistant. Perhaps I should introduce you to Freddy now, and we can make bets on which of you will climb higher in my father's estimation tonight.”

“It almost seems you believe I rescued your father's diver just to impress him.”

“You certainly have endeared yourself.”

“Have I endeared myself to his daughter?”

“Have you suddenly acquired money?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Then I am not endeared or impressed.”

Archer was almost certain Viola had recognized him from their dawn encounter some months before, but he left nothing to chance. “I gather this means your handkerchiefs don't carry my initials?”

Her gaze didn't flicker. “I'm quite sorry you're a poor man, Mr. Llewellyn. You have a certain brash charm that, together, we might put to good use. But I have no interest
in a man who can't get me out of this town.” She turned away, as if she was bored. But Archer stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Miss Somerset…”

She turned back, her gaze drifting languidly to his hand.

“I promise I'll sweep you off your feet and out of Western Australia. But I'll need just a little time to do it. Is there anything that will prevent you from waiting?”

She seemed to consider. “Only Freddy Colson. My father is determined to make me marry him. And I don't know how much longer I can refuse.”

“Then Freddy must go.”

“Go?” She favored him with a tinkling laugh. “Freddy clings to my father like an oyster to its shell.”

“I opened shell until the lay-up season. It only takes one swipe of the knife to separate an oyster from its home.”

“Maybe you're the man for the job, but may I propose you separate Freddy from my father with a touch more finesse?” She bowed her head; then, lifting her skirts, she stepped around him and crossed the room to speak to someone else.

Tom joined him. Sebastian Somerset had come to the Roebuck Hotel yesterday, just an hour after Archer and Tom had left the
Odyssey
at the jetty following their long months at sea. Somerset had wasted no time thanking Archer for saving Nakanishi's life and inviting him to this dinner. Archer, surprised that Somerset had moved so quickly, had requested that Tom be allowed to accompany him. Now he was glad. Tom, with his polished manners and elegant bearing, lent Archer credibility.

What society Broome could claim was gathered at the Somersets' tonight. There were bankers, pearlers and staff from Cable House, which administered and oversaw the
submarine communications cable stretching from Broome to Java. As a boy, Archer had played servant to people like these and witnessed the gracious behavior expected of guests, but he was already impatient to be done with this. He wanted Viola and her inheritance, and to have both he needed her father's regard. But he was not a man who enjoyed the subtleties of getting ahead.

“What do you think of this house?” he asked Tom. A formally dressed string quartet played quietly in the background, but not one of the musicians was as talented as Juan Fernandez.

“Nice. The architecture has an Asian feel to it, and Mrs. Somerset has obviously been to Singapore for her shopping. It suits the climate. I could be happy here.”

The house was the finest Archer had ever visited, and Tom's words brought home the differences between them. Archer snorted. “Well, you won't have a house like this one—or any house, for that matter—if we don't acquire a lugger and start getting shell of our own.”

“That's still your intention?”

“What else is there for us? It's the best gamble I know.”

“Even with the money I can lay my hands on, we're a long way from buying our own lugger. Maybe in a year or two.”

“We'll own a lugger by the time the weather clears and we can go out again.”

“What do you know that I don't?”

“I know I don't have time to waste.”

Tom frowned. “Don't be in such a hurry that you take too many chances, Archer. Or that you hurt anyone. We're young. We can wait.”

But Archer hadn't been young since the day his mother had abandoned him at the orphanage door. He sent Tom a reassuring grin. “Don't you worry. We'll have that lugger.
And I'll have Miss Somerset. You'll see. Now put a smile on that handsome mug and let's go charm the natives.”

 

Tom excused himself after dinner. The rest of the guests, including Archer, were to be treated to another concert by the string quartet, with the addition of a local soprano who specialized in Stephen Foster. Tom explained to Jane Somerset that since he'd just arrived back at port, he had business to attend to, and after a sufficient number of compliments on her house and hospitality, she let him leave without protest.

He was relieved to go, already nostalgic for quiet nights at sea and the rough-hewn company of the
Odyssey
's crew. He had endured too many events like the dinner at the Somersets'. The shell of Tom Robeson had behaved impeccably, but his heart had been somewhere else.

Since arriving back in Broome, he had been too involved in overseeing the unloading of the
Odyssey
to try to locate Willow. This morning, in between watching crew members disembark with baskets of shell, he had found a few moments to visit the laundry. But the stifling room where they had met was now an eating house where food was served to Chinese men who sat at plank tables chatting in a language he didn't understand. He had tried, without success, to discover what had happened, but no one had been willing to help him.

Now he decided to try Wong Fai, the
Odyssey
's cook. He knew where Wong was living, and since the two men had developed a comfortable rapport during their days at sea, he hoped Wong would help. Tom had little hope Willow was still in Broome, but he couldn't persuade himself not to look for her.

He found Wong's room in the back of a tailor shop in
an alley off Sheba Lane in Chinatown. With lay-up season, the population of Chinatown had tripled. Wong probably shared the room with other men, so when the door opened, Tom was glad to see he was alone.

Wong was a thin man who had managed, despite the diversity of tastes on the crew, to prepare meals that were as pleasing as a steady diet of fish and rice could be. He kept to himself on board, content each night to find a space on deck to toss coins in the air to divine the future or to silently smoke his pipe. Although he was small, he was tough and wiry, and the few skirmishes he had been involved in had ended in his favor.

“Something wrong, boss?” Wong asked, moving out of the doorway with a courteous bow.

Tom stepped inside, although he was embarrassed. The room would have been tight quarters for one man, and now he was taking up far too much of it. “Nothing's wrong, but I have a favor to ask you. I'm looking for Lian, the daughter of Sing Chung. The laundry is gone, and I can't find her.”

Wong was silent, but he managed to communicate disapproval by his stance and tightly drawn lips.

“Look, I know this is crazy,” Tom said. “But you know I'm not going to hurt her. I just want to be sure she's all right.”

“How you know this woman?”

Tom related the story of their two meetings.

“She give you laundry? No more?”

“Yes, that's all. But I liked her. And I want to be sure she's all right. Do you know if she's still in Broome? Did her father die?”

“Father dead.”

“Oh. Then she's probably gone back to China.”

Wong didn't respond.

“
Has
she gone back to China?”

“Why you care? She laundry girl. No more.”

“I don't know why, but I do.”

Wong hesitated; then he folded his arms and shook his head. “She in China now. Married woman. Here no more.”

“I see.” But he didn't, because despite the cook's carefully blank expression, Tom suspected he was lying. Wong was giving him too many clues to think otherwise. The way he shifted from foot to foot, the way he refused to meet Tom's eyes. Tom tried a new tactic. “If Lian
hadn't
gone back to China, where do you suppose she might be now?”

Wong looked relieved, as if he had done his duty and now he could speak the truth. “Girl like that, she have many men want her. Maybe one take her, hide her.”

Tom felt alarm spreading through his belly. “Where would a man hide her, do you suppose? If she were still here in Broome?”

“Many place hide girl. On boat. In room.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “Or if man own gambling house, he hide her upstair with others he keep.”

The alarm was growing, but Tom nodded patiently. “A man who might want a girl like that would probably be Chinese, wouldn't he? If the girl wasn't already married and back in China.”

“Yes. Big man. Big money.”

“And if something like this had happened, how would people feel, do you suppose, if someone went to find and help her?”

“Some be happy. Others try to kill man who help.”

“How could the man who tried to help protect himself?”

“Maybe man bring friends. If man come from boat, he
bring crew to gambling house. Crew make trouble, he go upstair, get girl.”

“Thank you, Wong.” Tom turned to go.

“Remember. Sing daughter in China. Married now.”

The door closed behind Tom before Wong's final words were spoken.

 

Bernard and Juan were easy to find. Ahmed and his friend Reece were more difficult, but once Tom located them, they were equally as enthusiastic about the fight. Even Toshiharu, whose limp was worse on land, was anxious to come along. Together the
Odyssey
's crew carried a variety of hastily gathered weapons, including some that Tom had never seen before and prayed he would never experience. The only crew member besides Wong who was missing was Archer. Apparently he was still at the Somerset's listening to renditions of “Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair,” and although Tom regretted not having his friend along, he didn't want to wait. Under the circumstances, time was more important than numbers.

He had reported every word of his conversation with Wong to Juan, who had lived in Broome the longest. Juan had two guesses about who the mysterious owner of the gambling house might be. Gambling was as much a part of the local character as mosquitoes or mangroves, and all the nationalities had their own games and their own places to pursue them, including the British and Australians, who were partial to billiards and horse racing. It wasn't uncommon for a man to lose an entire season's wages in his first days on shore. Even the local police cooperated by turning their eyes the other way in exchange for tickets in the various weekly lotteries.

“First man, he has a big house, but don't think he's the
one. He plays nothing but mah-jongg there, and his wife, she lives above.” Juan drew a finger across his throat. “That one, she be unhappy if he bring Sing Lian to stay.”

“What about the second?” Tom was trying not to imagine what might have happened to Willow already.

“That's my guess. Wild place, that one. Lotta money come and go there, and landlord, Bobby Chinn, he gets rich enough to buy village at home.”

“Do you know anything about him?”

“He's bad. He be sent back to China fast, but he gives too much money to town. How he makes his money, that's bad, too. He brings in opium. Not just a little for good time, but too much. He makes his own people sick.”

Juan had already told Tom that the Chinese had several gambling games they preferred. Fan-tan and a numbers game called
pai-gow
vied with mah-jongg.

“That's where we'll go, then,” Tom said. “Let's just pray it's the right place.”

The house in question was in Dampier Terrace, behind a general store run by Chinn. Entry was through aisles lined with bolts of fabric, sacks of flour and an assortment of straw sandals and hats. Tom and the others ignored the protests of the clerk, who followed behind them shouting. At the back of the store Juan nodded to a door, and Tom flung it open and braced himself for a fight.