Read Online Pearls by Colin Falconer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colin Falconer
Tags: Historical fiction, Suspense, Historical, Literature & Fiction, History, European, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Chinese, Japanese
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me and with good reason. A man will never forgive anyone he's cheated.'
'Do you think you two could ever ... let this go?'
Cameron didn't answer her, and she supposed that was answer enough. 'He'd best hear it from me,' she murmured. 'Promise you won't tell anyone?'
'I promise,' he said.
She clung to him. Cameron kept his smile fixed in place. I'm not ready for this, he thought. But then, I suppose most men never are.
After she'd gone he put on his Panama and strode down to the Bosun's Regret on Spring Moon Street to fortify himself with a drink. For the next twenty five years he wished he had stayed on the China Cloud and drunk the square-face from his stores. He didn't know that the Koolinda had docked a day early and that Flynn would be in the front bar, blousy drunk and spoiling for a fight.
Tanaka would have called it karma , perhaps; or else it was just bad luck. Words were said, punches were thrown outside in the street. By the end of the day the result of the altercation was all over town and life for Cameron and Kate would never be the same.
***
Patrick Flynn was drunk. He surveyed the bar of the Bosun's Regret as it spun around him. Either I haven't found my land legs yet or I'm drunker than I thought.
He was sunk in self recrimination. On the trip down to Perth he had passed the time playing poker with George Niland and had lost heavily, then lost another two hundred pounds at a two up school in Fremantle. Another hundred had done on a whore he found by the docks; she wasn't worth more than half a crown but when he woke in the morning both the girl and his wallet were gone.
And George was still playing shy on the partnership. 'You keep your end of the bargain, old boy,' he had told him, 'and I'll keep mine.'
Kathleen! Now how in the name of all that was holy could he persuade the damned girl that was good for him was good for her, too? If she did not want to marry the son of the richest, most powerful man in all of Broome, who would she marry?
'Christ, if the Prince of Wales himself walked in and asked for her hand, she'd ask for time to think about it,' he muttered to himself, and dropped some more coins in the barmaid's jar to get her attention.
He ordered another gin.
Flynn looked up as Cameron walked into the bar. Jesus Christ and all the Blesséd Saints. More trouble.
'Well, Patrick Flynn. Look what the cat dragged in.'
Flynn straightened. 'What can I do for you now, Mister McKenzie?'
'I see your nose has mended. Not too well, I'd say. It's about as crooked as you are.'
It had fallen silent and everyone in the bar was watching.
'Well what if I did take your damned pearl,' he said.
'You admit it then?'
Flynn swayed on his feet. Damn him, the whole world was rotten, it was dog eat dog and devil take the hindmost. That was just the way things were. He leaned in close. 'You'll never see the like again. I'll buy ten China Clouds for that one pearl, you miserable Scottish bastard!'
Well that ought to do it, he thought. His hand curled around a bottle of square face on the bar. Come on, take a swing, he thought. Let's see how you go with this across your nose.
To his surprise Cameron turned and walked out of the bar.
Flynn came barrelling out of the door after him and threw himself at Cameron. They rolled over and over in the dirt, Flynn clawing and spitting like a feral cat. But drink had made him clumsy and slow and the younger man pushed him away and rolled easily back onto his feet. As Flynn charged again Cameron caught him on the point of his chin with a savage uppercut and Flynn hit the ground as if pole-axed.
The crowd followed them out of the Regret and stood on the veranda watching as the two men fought it out on Spring Moon Lane. Flynn raised his head form the dirt and jeered at Cameron as he went to walk away a second time. 'You're dirt, McKenzie, and you'll always be dirt. A grocer's son from a Scottish slum!'
'Well aye, maybe, but good enough to be the father of your
'Do you think you two could ever ... let this go?'
Cameron didn't answer her, and she supposed that was answer enough. 'He'd best hear it from me,' she murmured. 'Promise you won't tell anyone?'
'I promise,' he said.
She clung to him. Cameron kept his smile fixed in place. I'm not ready for this, he thought. But then, I suppose most men never are.
After she'd gone he put on his Panama and strode down to the Bosun's Regret on Spring Moon Street to fortify himself with a drink. For the next twenty five years he wished he had stayed on the China Cloud and drunk the square-face from his stores. He didn't know that the Koolinda had docked a day early and that Flynn would be in the front bar, blousy drunk and spoiling for a fight.
Tanaka would have called it karma , perhaps; or else it was just bad luck. Words were said, punches were thrown outside in the street. By the end of the day the result of the altercation was all over town and life for Cameron and Kate would never be the same.
***
Patrick Flynn was drunk. He surveyed the bar of the Bosun's Regret as it spun around him. Either I haven't found my land legs yet or I'm drunker than I thought.
He was sunk in self recrimination. On the trip down to Perth he had passed the time playing poker with George Niland and had lost heavily, then lost another two hundred pounds at a two up school in Fremantle. Another hundred had done on a whore he found by the docks; she wasn't worth more than half a crown but when he woke in the morning both the girl and his wallet were gone.
And George was still playing shy on the partnership. 'You keep your end of the bargain, old boy,' he had told him, 'and I'll keep mine.'
Kathleen! Now how in the name of all that was holy could he persuade the damned girl that was good for him was good for her, too? If she did not want to marry the son of the richest, most powerful man in all of Broome, who would she marry?
'Christ, if the Prince of Wales himself walked in and asked for her hand, she'd ask for time to think about it,' he muttered to himself, and dropped some more coins in the barmaid's jar to get her attention.
He ordered another gin.
Flynn looked up as Cameron walked into the bar. Jesus Christ and all the Blesséd Saints. More trouble.
'Well, Patrick Flynn. Look what the cat dragged in.'
Flynn straightened. 'What can I do for you now, Mister McKenzie?'
'I see your nose has mended. Not too well, I'd say. It's about as crooked as you are.'
It had fallen silent and everyone in the bar was watching.
'Well what if I did take your damned pearl,' he said.
'You admit it then?'
Flynn swayed on his feet. Damn him, the whole world was rotten, it was dog eat dog and devil take the hindmost. That was just the way things were. He leaned in close. 'You'll never see the like again. I'll buy ten China Clouds for that one pearl, you miserable Scottish bastard!'
Well that ought to do it, he thought. His hand curled around a bottle of square face on the bar. Come on, take a swing, he thought. Let's see how you go with this across your nose.
To his surprise Cameron turned and walked out of the bar.
Flynn came barrelling out of the door after him and threw himself at Cameron. They rolled over and over in the dirt, Flynn clawing and spitting like a feral cat. But drink had made him clumsy and slow and the younger man pushed him away and rolled easily back onto his feet. As Flynn charged again Cameron caught him on the point of his chin with a savage uppercut and Flynn hit the ground as if pole-axed.
The crowd followed them out of the Regret and stood on the veranda watching as the two men fought it out on Spring Moon Lane. Flynn raised his head form the dirt and jeered at Cameron as he went to walk away a second time. 'You're dirt, McKenzie, and you'll always be dirt. A grocer's son from a Scottish slum!'
'Well aye, maybe, but good enough to be the father of your
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