Coasts of Cape York (4 page)

As they got closer to the swimming man Mr Southall turned away and then brought the Catalina around in a curve so that the wind and waves would drift the man down towards the plane. “We don't want to run him over,” Mr Southall explained.

The delay involved got Willy all anxious again. ‘If we aren't quick the shark will get him!' he fretted.

And there was the shark! Its fin broke the surface about fifty metres away. “Oh hurry!” Willy cried. “There's the shark!”

He looked down and saw the man was now close alongside and swimming with an awkward breaststroke towards them. What bothered Willy the most was seeing the man's legs so clearly in the water. The aircraft's engines went into reverse and the plane slowed right down, even as Willy feared they would run the man right over. Mr Southall now turned the aircraft, using the rudder and port propeller, so that the swimming man appeared to slide astern. In fact it placed him back under the wing and safely away from the spinning propeller blades, which Willy noted were coming dangerously close to the surface of the water as waves swept under the hull.

The flight engineer tossed the lifebuoy towards the man, a young man Willy now noted. The man splashed towards it, making Willy mutter, “Don't splash!” The swimming man at last made it to the lifebuoy and grabbed it. Willy could tell, by his face and the floundering strokes, that he was exhausted. ‘Oh hurry!' he kept thinking, very anxious about the sharks, both of which had now gone out of sight.

The flight engineer and navigator hauled slowly on the rope to draw the lifebuoy towards the aircraft. Willy understood that they were doing it slowly so that the exhausted swimmer did not lose his grip but every second was nail-biting tension as he kept fretting about the sharks. Then the man was alongside. He reached up but they failed to grab his hand as the waves sucked him down and away. Then the man was washed hard against the hull by the next wave. To Willy's consternation the man went under.

For a few seconds Willy thought they had lost him, even wondered if the shark had pulled him under, but then his desperate, spluttering face appeared again. The swimmer still had a grip on the lifebuoy. Again he reached up, his eyes wide with fear. The flight engineer and navigator leaned out and reached down to grab the man's arms (He wore no shirt, Willy noted). As soon as they had a grip they hauled, dragging the man up inside.

As the man's legs vanished inside the door way Willy sat back and almost cried with relief. ‘Oh got him! Safe!” he thought happily.

The navigator appeared at the top of the steps. “Got him skipper,” he called.

“Good,” Mr Southall answered. “Now we will try to collect what we can of that other poor bugger. Can you see where he is?”

The navigator shook his head and said, “No Ivan.”

Willy craned his neck to look out and scanned the tossing wave tops. As he did he tried to orientate himself. ‘The body was about fifty metres west of the swimmer,' he reasoned. But which way was that?  He had heard the comment about the wind direction being from the South East. The ‘Catalina' was rolling sharply in a quartering sea which came in under the starboard bow so he decided that west was back under the wing. He peered back through the spinning disc of the propeller in that direction.

It was a shark he saw, not the dead man. A swirl and splash in the waves caught his eye and a moment later he clearly glimpsed the long, pointed tail fin of one of the sharks.

“Back that way Mr Southall. I can see one of the sharks.  I think the.. the body is there,” he called, pointing as he did. He actually thought that the shark was attacking it but did not say so. The idea made him nauseous.

“Good lad Willy,” Mr Southall replied. “Now keep your eye on it while we taxi over.”

He opened the throttle of the starboard engine slightly and the nose of the ‘Catalina' came around. When it was pointing directly at the area both engines were used to get the seaplane moving forward. The result was an uncomfortable slithering and pitching motion as it outran each wave and slid awkwardly down its face.

The navigator came up and stood between the pilots to look through the front. He chuckled. “There are a few customers getting a bit seasick back there,” he said.

“They'll be even sicker if they see this bloke all mangled,” Mr Southall replied grimly. “Try to stop them looking.”

The navigator shook his head. “That will be difficult. There is a cadet at every port hole and the door is right in front of them.”

Mr Southall shrugged. Willy wondered if he had forgotten he was there but did not say anything.

It was the co-pilot who spotted the shark again and a minute later the dark bobbing shape of the corpse became visible among the waves. Willy was now filled with morbid fears and wondered if he should look away rather than give himself nightmares but he found he just had to look. As the seaplane edged down closer he was able to look straight down on the dead body. What he saw made his stomach heave and it was only with an effort he kept the contents down, rather than spewing them all over Mr Southall and the flight deck.

The body had lost an arm, all of one leg and half of the other and its stomach had been ripped open. Revolting streamers of pink, purple and brown flesh, intestines and sinews waved in the moving water. ‘Not much blood,' he observed. For a few seconds he watched with ghastly fascination the way the limbs and head lolled loosely in the waves. Then his stomach heaved again.

As quickly as he could Willy unbuckled his seat belt and struggled out into the passageway. Mr Southall turned and raised his eyebrows. “Going to be sick sir,” Willy managed to croak. Then his stomach heaved. To stop it he clenched his teeth and held his mouth shut as he stumbled down the steps behind the navigator. It didn't work. Vomit squirted up into Willy's nostrils and began to trickle and drip out.

Worse still, as he reached the bottom of the steps he found Finlay standing at the toilet door. She also had her hand over her mouth and looked green and miserable. As Willy gestured to get out of the way she shook her head and kept a firm grip on the handle. Willy then noted Flight Sergeant Anderson and Corporal Francini standing behind her, also looking sick.

Again his stomach moved and there was only one place to go, rather than throw up all over the passageway in the cabin- the open door. It was only two steps away but the flight engineer and navigator were blocking it. Willy staggered over and tapped the flight engineer on the shoulder. The flight engineer turned a quizzical face to him but Willy could not speak. His mouth was now full of vomit and he was having trouble breathing. When he tried to suck air in chunky bits moved in the back of his nostrils and blocked the left one. The revolting stench and taste of bile burned at his throat and airways.

The flight engineer took one glance and grabbed him, then moved aside to hold him in the doorway. As soon as green water appeared below Willy opened his mouth and heaved. Then he spluttered, coughed again and saw the dead body directly below him. The horrible sight made him heave again. Lumps and sour liquid squirted and dribbled out and he felt hot tears of shame. He was aware that the flight engineer and navigator had a firm grip on him. They suddenly thrust him back inside and the navigator dragged Flight Sergeant Anderson to the door to throw up as well.

Feeling upset and bilious Willy stood back against the bulkhead to make room. Through eyes that were streaming he saw Anderson shoved back out of the way and then the two men knelt and reached outside. “Get out of the way you kids! And don't look!” shouted the navigator.

Willy tried to but he could only go back up the passageway towards the cockpit. Before his horrified and disgusted eyes he saw the dead body come slithering and flopping onto the deck at his feet, hauled in by the two crewmen. Finlay and Cpl Francini both stared at it in wide-eyed horror and then spewed. The vomit poured onto the deck and then began to swill around their feet and the body as the plane rocked about. The door to the toilet opened and a pale and drawn looking Cadet Todd looked down, plainly aghast. He then heaved again and fled back into the toilet.

“Back off kids!” the navigator shouted, pointing aft. Finlay, Francini and Anderson all backed away, their eyes wide with fear and shock. Along the corridor Willy could see the horrified eyes of other cadets and officers staring towards the mess at his feet. He began to back up but the navigator looked at him and called, “Pass us those garbage bags please.”

Willy was next to the door of the tiny galley and saw some large green garbage bags there. He nodded, quite unable to speak and having trouble breathing. With shaking hands he passed the garbage bags quickly to the navigator. Unable to tear his eyes from the scene he watched with grisly fascination as the man began sliding the bag over the corpse's head. As he did Willy began to experience searing flashbacks. This was not the first time that he had seen a dead body. Seven months before his uncle had been murdered; mutilated by a chain saw. It had been Willy who had found the body. A few weeks later he had seen a man obliterated in a spray of blood and mince when he fell into a wood pulp machine. The man had been attempting to kill Willy, who had spent the previous night in terror as he faced his death. It had been a very dark period in his life and now it chilled him with redoubled force.

With an effort Willy snuffled and blew his nose into his handkerchief. A lump of something stuck in the back of his left nostril and he gagged and felt as though he would vomit again. His eyes watered and he clung to the door of the galley. A movement in front of him caused him to lift his eyes and through the mist of tears he saw the face of the man they had rescued.

The man looked to be about twenty and wore only shorts and a belt with some sort of zip-up bag on it. He had blond hair and startlingly blue eyes. These were fixed on the body of the dead man as the navigator and flight engineer struggled to wrap it up. The rescued man was also standing, clinging to the opposite doorpost, the entrance to the tiny crew's mess and bunk space.

The navigator turned to him and reached out a hand. “Pass me a blanket please mate,” he said.

The man did so, then shook his head in obvious distress. Willy was also very upset. He met the man's eyes for a moment and said, “I'm sorry we weren't quicker. If I'd seen you earlier we might have saved your friend.”

The man stared at him and then went wide eyed and shook his head. “No. No. You couldn't have saved him. He was dead already.”

“Dead already!” Willy echoed. He swivelled his eyes to stare at the body.

“Yes,” the man said. “He was shot.”

 

 

CHAPTER 3

 

BETWEEN THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA

 

“Shot!” Willy croaked.

The man nodded. He then pointed at the body and said, “In the chest, see.”

Willy looked and now saw that the front of the man's shirt was stained and torn. “Who by? Why? When?” he asked, shocked by the information.

The man just shook his head and slumped against the door. The navigator called to Willy, “Help him! Put him on the bench.”

Willy gripped the man around the chest under the arms and found he could hardly hold him up. With an effort he changed his grip and then struggled to half carry, half drag the man back into the tiny compartment. This had a bench seat along both walls and a small fold-down table in the middle. The table was in the way and he banged himself a few times while he lifted the man onto the far bench.

That done Willy turned to lift the table, which was hinged at the end away from the door. As he did the man began to slide off the narrow bench seat. Willy swore and grabbed at him while trying to hold the table up. It didn't work. Willy had to let the table drop on his back while he knelt to push the man back onto the bench.

The table was lifted and Willy was aware that someone was helping him. He glanced up and saw it was Mr Southall. “You get up in the corner and hold him,” Mr Southall said. He then clipped the table in the upright position against the bulkhead.

Willy was now able to get behind the man and lift him up onto the bench seat properly. He intended to lie him down but the man opened his eyes and croaked so he held him up. “What did you say?” Willy asked.

“Water,” the man croaked.

Mr Southall gestured to Willy. “You hold him up. I'll get the water.”

Willy did as he was told and Mr Southall quickly went to the galley to get a cup of water. While he did this he spoke to the men in the doorway and then handed Willy the cup. “Give him this while I help the others,” he instructed.

Willy found it awkward to keep the man upright and hold the cup to his lips. The man put up his own hands to help and gulped greedily at the water, spilling half of it in his haste.  Then he sighed and leaned back. “Thanks,” he croaked. After a minute or so he sat up. “Can I have some more please?”

“Will you be alright?” Willy asked, worried the man might slump off the bench again.

“Yes,” the man replied. Willy released his hold and made his way across to the galley, found the tap and filled the cup. As he did Mr Southall came past with a blanket. When Willy recrossed the passageway he glanced to his right and saw that the dead body was being wrapped up in the blanket. The sight made him shudder and feel very depressed.

He returned to the tiny cabin and handed the man the water, then sat opposite him. The man drank the water greedily then smacked his lips with satisfaction. “Sorry,” he said, “but I've been in the water since early last night and I'm a bit thirsty.”

Willy did a quick calculation. It was only about 10am so he deduced the man had been in the water at least twelve hours. He wanted to ask what had happened but knew Mr Southall would ask that so he said, “You were very lucky I saw you. We only came down low to have a look at some whales.”

“You saw me? Thanks, I owe you,” the man said. Then he managed a weak grin and held out his hand. “I'm Jacob van der Heyden. What's your name?”