Pearls by Colin Falconer Page B

diver here for sure.'
    Cameron swore and turned away. The Japanese were good divers but superstitious beyond belief, to a man. It would be pointless to try and persuade him. Working the deeps did this to a man; after a while even the best diver began to imagine things.
    The crew rolled their eyes at each other and chuckled among themselves.
    Simeon surfaced nearly two hours later. When he was out of his suit, he accepted a cup of coffee from the cookboy and sat down on the bulwark.
    'A good haul, Mister Espada,' Cameron said, surveying the Manilaman's lay. 'By the way, you did nae happen to see a dead diver down there?'
    Simeon pursed his lips thoughtfully and shook his head.
    'Mister Hanaguchi thinks a skull with a green body stole all his shell.'
    'Well I know I stole some of his shell. But I didn't see no ghost. Perhaps I frightened him off.'
    All the crew were staring at Simeon now. 'I thought so. Did you turn off his air valve, also?'
    Simeon grinned. 'Then I gave him a good kick in the pants with my boot. You should see him jump!' He threw back his head and roared. Soon the rest of the crew were laughing too. The only ones who did not laugh were Cameron, who had lost an afternoon's work from one of his divers, and Siosuki.
    'It was just a joke,' Simeon said.
    Hanaguchi picked up a marlin spike and came at him. He would have split the Manilaman's skull down the middle if Wes had not intercepted him, pinning his arms. He held him while Cameron prised the heavy iron from his fist, then hefted him, screaming curses at Simeon in Japanese, downstairs to his bunk.
    He grabbed Simeon by the collar. 'I ought to break your head for that little prank myself,' Cameron said and threw the marlin spike across the deck where it lodged in the scuppers. He went below decks to help Wes calm the little Japanese.
    There was a shuffling silence. Simeon winked at the Koepangers. That should give the little yellow bastard something to think about. Never mind that he had just made himself a mortal enemy. He was too full of himself to realise it.
     
    ***
     
    Simeon lay on his bunk in the darkness, listening to the night. The Roebuck's chain trembled as she faced the tide, timbers creaking as she came about. He heard the Japanese, Hanaguchi whimpering in his sleep, wrestling with the sea demons again. Something scuttled across the floor, a cockroach or perhaps a rat.
    The symphony of snores from the crew satisfied him that it was safe. He eased himself gently out of his bunk and padded barefoot across the deck to the scuttle.
    It was a hot night, a bright three quarter moon throwing the shadows on the planking into stark relief. The deck was deserted, except for the Koepanger crewman asleep on his watch at the tiller. He eased out of the scuttle and waited, hardly daring to breathe. If the skipper caught him now he would never get a job on these pearling grounds again. Anna Lacey was worth the risk.
    A small pile of shell lay unopened on the deck, by the main mast. That afternoon the skipper had sent him back down, as punishment for the trick he had played on Hanaguchi. The sun had set by the time he got back on deck, and so Cameron had been forced to leave it there.
    The oysters had almost suffocated in their shells during the evening and now some of them had opened on their gristly hinges to gasp in the cooler air. Simeon approached them cautiously; he knew that at the slightest touch or vibration they would snap shut. On the few occasions that shell was left on deck overnight, rats were found in the morning with their tails protruding from a half open oyster they had tried to eat alive.
    Simeon got down on his knees, holding a cork and a piece of twisted wire. He looked for the gleam of an open shell. When he found one he thrust the cork between the lips of the shell to hold it open and hooked the wire inside, feeling for the tell-tale hardness of a pearl.
    A dozen times he tried, knowing the odds were almost hopeless. But others had