*
The Koombana was due to dock with the evening tide, but when Kitty – by now in such a state of agitation she’d had to resort to a nip of brandy to calm her nerves – reached the harbour there was no sign of the ship out in the bay.
‘There’s been a cyclone,’ the harbour master was telling those already gathered there. ‘We think she might have taken shelter in Derby to wait out the storm. No point hanging around here, ladies and gents. Go to your homes and come back later.’
Kitty cursed the bad weather for striking on the very day she had so carefully prepared herself for. On the train back along the jetty neighbours greeted her, making small talk about the storm the night before and how many of the boats had taken shelter. Mr Pigott, one of Andrew’s fellow pearling masters, sat down next to her.
‘Hope that ship comes in soon. It’s got half my family upon it. Yours too, I hear.’
‘Yes. You think the Koombana is safe? After all, she’s the newest in the fleet.’
‘I’m sure she is,’ Mr Pigott replied, ‘but it was one hell of a storm last night, Mrs Mercer, and I’ve known bigger ships than the Koombana go down before. Well, all we can do is hope for the best. And pray.’ He patted her hand and got up as the train came to a halt. Kitty felt the first tingle of fear creep like a silken thread up her spine.
Back at home, she paced the drawing room as Camira tried to convince her to eat, but she refused. Fred, whom she’d sent to wait on the dock and alert her to any sighting of the ship, returned home at midnight.
‘No-a boat, Missus Boss.’
Kitty retired to bed, but sleep refused to take her, as her mind turned over in anxiety.
The next morning, as Fred drove her towards the dock, she was swept up in crowds of people gathered in the town who were discussing the fate of the Koombana in hushed whispers. Kitty decided to follow them up the hill at the end of Dampier Terrace, where the residents peered out over Roebuck Bay.
‘We don’t know where she is, Mrs Mercer,’ said Mr Rubin, another pearling master. ‘The postmaster says he thinks the telegraph lines at Derby blew down, which is why they’re not replying. There’ll be news soon, I’m sure.’
Beneath her, the treacherous ocean was now like a millpond, and those with binoculars reported that they could see no sign of any vessel. A number of pearl luggers were missing too, and as the heat of the day grew stronger, more friends and relatives joined the throng on the top of the hill. Kitty found herself pulled along with the crowd back down the hill to the telegraph office to question the postmaster. He told the crowd that he was continuing to send messages to the Derby office, but silence was the only response.
Finally, at sunset, a hush fell over the crowd outside the hut as the telegraph machine came to life. All that could be heard was the buzzing of insects in the dusk and the tapping of the machine.
The postmaster emerged from the hut, his face sombre. He hung a notice on the board outside then retreated.
Koombana not at Derby, said the words on the black-bordered page.
The harbourmaster, Captain Dalziel, called on all the men to join in the search for the ship, and Kitty overheard Noel Donovan, the Mercer Pearling Company manager, pledging their luggers’ help. Back at home, her mind fogged with terror and exhaustion, Kitty was settled into bed by Camira, who smoothed her hair back from her damp forehead.
‘I stay withum you, singa to sleep,’ Camira soothed her as Kitty held tight to her hand, unable to voice the unbearable thoughts running through her head.
*
Over the next few days, as there was no further news, Kitty listened numbly to all those who came to her door to update her on the situation. Issues of the Northern Times piled up on the front doorstep as she refused to so much as look at the headlines.
Nearly two weeks after the Koombana should have docked in Broome, Kitty made her way into the kitchen. Her face fell as she saw Camira crying on Fred’s shoulder.
‘What is it?’
‘The Koombana, Missus Kitty. It sink. Everyone lost. Everyone gone.’
*
In retrospect, Kitty could not remember much of the rest of that day; perhaps shock had wiped her memory. She vaguely recalled Fred driving her in the cart to the harbourmaster’s office, where a weeping crowd was gathered. Calling for silence, Captain Dalziel read out the telegram from the Adelaide Steamship Company:
‘With profound regret the company have to announce that they consider the discovery of wreckage by the SS Gorgon and SS Minderoo, which has been identified as belonging to the SS Koombana, is evidence that the Koombana was lost with all hands in the vicinity of Bedout Island, during the cyclone which raged on the twentieth and twenty-first of March . . .’
He read out the passenger list to his devastated audience.
‘. . . McSwain, Donald,
‘Mercer, Andrew,
‘Mercer, Drummond,
‘Mercer, Stefan . . .’
Some deckchairs were found so that the women could sit. Many amongst the crowd had already dropped to the ground where they stood.
Mr Pigott had been one of the first to collapse and was sobbing loudly. Unable to process any of her own thoughts or feelings, Kitty at least thanked God for the small mercy of not losing a child. Mr Pigott had lost his wife and two daughters.
Eventually, the devastated townspeople began to stagger home to tell their relatives that there were no survivors. Captain Dalziel had mentioned that the victims’ nearest and dearest were being contacted by telegram as he spoke. As Fred helped her onto the cart, Kitty mused that the only person she had to tell was her son. Nevertheless, when she arrived home, she automatically took up her fountain pen and wrote a short note of sympathy to Edith, understanding there were no words of comfort she could give to a woman who had lost her husband and two sons in one cruel twist of fate. She asked Fred to take it to the telegraph office, then went to her bedroom, closed the door behind her, and sat staring into space.
Andrew has gone.
Drummond has gone . . .
The words were meaningless. Kitty lay down fully clothed on the bed she had shared with both of them, closed her eyes and slept.
*
‘Charlie, darling, I need to talk to you about something.’
‘What is it, Mama? When is Papa coming home?’
‘Well, Charlie, the thing is, Papa isn’t coming home. At least, not to us anyway.’
‘Then where is he going?’
‘Your papa, Uncle Drum and Grandfather Mercer have been called up to heaven to be with the angels.’ Kitty felt the first pricking of tears behind her eyes. Having been unable to shed a tear since she’d heard the news, she knew she absolutely mustn’t and couldn’t cry now in front of her son. ‘They’re special, you see, and God wanted them up there with Him.’