Tears of the Moon (11 page)

He swept his hat from his head, gave a courtly bow and answered. ‘Indeed we might.’ Turning on his heel he strode back along the beach towards the shipwreck cove. Olivia assumed they would salvage what they could and sail away.

However, had she followed the two men she would have seen them turn into the scrubland and make their way to where some of the local Aborigines were camped. Here the white man, who spoke enough of their language to be understood, asked that they keep a watch on the woman on the beach. Some other matters were discussed with the tribal elders and the two men returned to their schooner.

Olivia, meanwhile, sat on the ground, limp with mental and physical exhaustion. Leaning back against a tin trunk she thought of course she couldn’t have gone with him, but perhaps he could have sailed his smaller boat into Cossack. Maybe she
should have asked him to wait for Conrad. Instead she had dismissed him like a lady at a tea party. But at least the unexpected visit had broken her sense of utter isolation. Oh dear, she hoped Conrad would be back by nightfall. Thinking of the evening she suddenly realised she could have asked him for matches. She rose and struggled along the beach to the rocky point but to her dismay there was no sign of any boat.

Nor was there any sign of her husband by the time the dusk drew in. Forlornly Olivia looked at the little pile of dried grass and twigs she’d been unable to light. She ate some dried oats, drank some water and crouched at the water’s edge to splash salt water on her face, knowing the salt would be uncomfortable on her skin, but thought it best to save the precious drinking water. She was tired and sat on the damp sand, soaking her feet in the sea water to relieve their swollen soreness.

It was twilight by the time she made her way back to the shelter. For a moment she thought she smelled smoke, but the sky around her was clear. However, as she arrived at the makeshift camp she stopped and blinked to make sure she wasn’t imagining the sight before her.

One of the Aboriginal men she’d seen earlier sat cross-legged at the site of her failed campfire. Concentrating on his task, he twirled a thin stick on a piece of wood, stopping to blow on it as a spark flared, then another, then a thin wisp of smoke was visible and the grass smouldered and caught. He gently blew on the embryonic flame, dropped wisps
of shredded grass on to it and a fire was started. He ignored Olivia who squatted opposite hardly daring to breathe as he performed this delicate task. Once he had it burning brightly he straightened up and gave Olivia a beatific smile.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

His reply, short and guttural, meant nothing to her and was like no language she had ever heard. Gratefully she held out her hands over the flame which represented security as well as a practical aid for light and cooking. Suddenly anxious to build the fire, she heaved herself to her feet and went to where she had stacked some wood.

When she turned back to the fire the man had gone, melting into the softly falling night.

She slept fitfully that night, driven to distraction by the attacks of flying, biting insects. When the dawn finally came, Olivia threw a branch on the fire embers and was relieved to see it flare into life. She felt a renewed spurt of energy and was confident that today Conrad would arrive. In anticipation she stowed and packed the things she had scattered about her shelter and gathered more wood. She longed for fresh food and was concerned at how low the water had sunk in one of the barrels. Perhaps the native who had kindled her fire might lead her to water. She had heard and seen nothing, but somehow knew they were close at hand and watching her.

By late morning she was weary, her limbs ached and she felt very strange, which she put down to lack of proper food. She sipped some of her water and to
distract herself decided to walk through the coastal fringe of growth behind the white low sandhills. But after some distance with nothing but low scrubland, sandy red soil, spindly trees between sparse large gums, the heat began to affect her. So when she came upon a small clearing she sat down in the shade. She closed her eyes then gulped in shock as she felt her body become gripped in an iron clasp of pain. She drew up her knees as another spasm rippled and stabbed at her and the terrifying realisation hit her that she was going to have her child all alone in this wilderness.

Crying out aloud, she struggled to her feet, her arms cupped beneath the weight of the child which was pushing insistently and agonisingly downwards. After staggering a short distance, the pain once more forced her to the ground. Curling up on her side, Olivia rocked and moaned as the contractions rippled through her body. She lost track of time and sense of where she was, as she focused on the point within her body that was causing this anguish. She was vividly aware of her predicament, fearful of its outcome and screamed for her husband. Finally, she lapsed into semi-consciousness.

Through the mists of her mind Olivia became aware of a gentle hand soothing her hot brow, and firm hands straightening her legs. She felt herself being lifted.

‘Conrad, I knew you’d come,’ Olivia sighed and struggled to regain consciousness. Opening her eyes with relief, instead of her husband, she found she was staring into the dark eyes of a black woman. Two
other Aboriginal women murmured words that had no meaning and pulled at her clothes but Olivia was too wracked by another contraction to fight them. She soon realised they were there to help her, and she began to work with them. Her voluminous skirt and petticoats were dispensed with and she squatted forward, supported front and back while the third woman directed proceedings. She felt the baby slide from her body as she arched and heaved with a panting cry and the satisfied grunts from the woman in charge comforted her. In a rush it was all over and the child was turned to face the earth, the cord pulled free and cut with a sharp stone flint. Olivia felt a hard push on her belly to expel the afterbirth.

They settled her and busied themselves with the baby after lifting it to her with broad smiles, showing her it was a son. Olivia, weak and shaking, could only gasp until they placed a wad of gummy substance in her mouth. She sucked on it as they had shown her and could soon feel her energy returning. Now trusting these women completely she watched as they tended her by rubbing some kind of ash paste on to her torn parts. Then they turned their attention to the infant. A small fire was burning. Olivia had no recollection of it being started or of the hole being dug in which they were now burying the placenta. After placing green leaves on the fire and holding the baby above the smoke they drew a pattern on its pale skin in ash and red paste.

The three women were chanting softly together, words of a familiar and ancient rite as they tended the baby, joining it with mother earth and giving the
child its Dreaming place, its place of belonging, the place where its spirit would return when its time in this place had passed. But Olivia understood none of this, seeing only her child, calm and alert in capable hands. When they handed the child to her, Olivia put it to her breast and, for the first time, she smiled.

Later she slept and as night fell the women who had squatted patiently by, helped her and the child return to the shelter. The fire was burning and the smell of food gave Olivia great pangs of hunger. A fish was cooking in the embers and as Olivia settled herself one of the women dragged the fish from the fire with a stick. After letting it cool, she then scraped away the burnt skin, broke off the cooked white flesh and handed it to Olivia who ate greedily. They threw more green leaves on the fire which gave off a pungent smelling smoke and left her and the child to sleep. Olivia lay by the fire with her son, delighting in the wonderment of this small and perfect being she cradled in her arms.

CHAPTER FIVE

T
he day came wrapped in a wet blanket. Olivia felt as if she was being smothered by the moist air, her limbs were heavy, her skin clammy, insects were annoying her and the fretful baby. She felt lethargic and drained and knew it was not the reaction to giving birth but to the physical conditions about her. As she struggled to settle the baby at her breast, a depression born from feeling abandoned seeped into her like the dampness soaking through her uncomfortable clothing. Had something happened to Conrad? Why hadn’t he come back with the dray? The realisation of responsibility for this small dependent creature she held in her arms was daunting under ideal conditions, but here was the added weight of loneliness and helplessness. It was almost overwhelming. How was she going to get through the next few hours, let alone face the days and months and years ahead? Olivia weakly tossed a
branch onto the fire, knowing she should rouse herself and eat to keep up her strength.

As Olivia sat cradling the baby she heard voices, then saw that the three Aboriginal women had returned, bringing with them a young girl who eyed Olivia with shy curiosity. The women had brought food which they put before her in a little wooden dish. The older woman gently reached for the baby then held him to her breast. Olivia was stunned and felt an urge to reach out and snatch the baby away from the black breast, then relaxed. The gentle smiles and tender handling of her baby reassured her. She no longer felt so lonely or abandoned and gingerly sampled the strange food. The young girl, who looked about ten years old, giggled and made eyes at the baby. The women loosened the cotton shawl and let the naked baby stretch in the warm air. One waved a swatch of green grasses over him, keeping the insects away.

Olivia found the food delicious, a sort of seed cake soaked in wild honey, and a nutty tasting, fingersized white ‘cigar’ she couldn’t identify and from its slug-like appearance she decided not to look at too closely. When she finished she felt better and she gave them all a smile of appreciation and licked her fingers. The women stood and with gestures, unfamiliar words and laughter made it clear to Olivia she should come with them. Olivia was a little reluctant to move, but these seemingly primitive women had been so caring and she knew she had to trust them. They unrolled a simple string sling lined with kangaroo fur and hooked it over her head so it hung
across her chest. The baby was put in the bag where he snuggled comfortably against his mother. Leading her from the shelter they pointed inland. Suddenly lamenting the loss of her straw bonnet, Olivia tied on her second best hat and, taking the stick the little girl handed her, followed the women into the bush.

It was a slow walk, but the women were patient and in no hurry, sometimes pausing to pick wild berries. Olivia tired quickly and she realised that these people must think it normal for a woman to walk soon after giving birth. It was a great contrast to the customs in her world. One of the women offered to carry the baby, and Olivia gratefully handed over the weighty little baby bag.

How she wished she could communicate with these women as they chattered softly amongst themselves, but she was glad enough for their company and felt safe in their care.

They soon came to a billabong surrounded by pandanus palms and river gum trees and they all settled in the shade. Olivia sat with her back to a tree and watched the women gather food from the water plants and shrubs in the mud beneath a floating carpet of broad-leafed plants. One of the women found a huge water snake that was brought ashore with shrieks of delight and quickly killed. With gestures they indicated to Olivia that it was going to be part of their next meal.

On the way back to her camp they stopped and used their digging sticks to unearth two large eggs buried in the sandy soil, to catch a small goanna and to whack a tree and shake free its seed pods which
were collected in a little wooden scoop. The short heavy sticks with a fire-hardened pointed end seemed to Olivia to be of huge importance and no woman moved far without this versatile and practical implement. They left their grinding stones at the main camp but around their waists they wore a braided hair belt into which they tucked small tools, which left their hands free to carry children and to hunt. Olivia was fascinated at their skill in catching small animals.

Late in the day several men came out of the scrub further along the beach. The women signalled to them to come into Olivia’s camp. The men hesitated, chuckling and discussing the entreaty before edging forward as a group. Olivia felt as shy with them as they obviously were with her. Their near nakedness embarrassed her but nonetheless she couldn’t help admiring their lean and muscular physiques. The three women pointed at the sleeping baby and were obviously talking about the food they had prepared for Olivia. This brought a surge of talk, with the men pointing to the water’s edge. For the first time Olivia noticed a long low stone wall of loosely packed stones that ran across the mouth of an inlet between two rocky outcrops. This wall was covered by the sea at full tide and as the water receded through the gaps between the stones, fish were trapped behind the wall, making it an effective trap. It was now low tide and the men and women went to the trap and began scooping up the fish. Molluscs and shellfish were also collected and added to the stock of food.