Coasts of Cape York (45 page)

The stern anchor was unshackled and then Graham took a light line across to the yacht. This was then used to haul the steel winch rope across. Capt Kirk and the mate organized a towing bridle and then the mate went across in the boat to ensure the tow was correctly secured. Capt Kirk went up to the monkey island and conned the LCT from there. It took twenty minutes to tow the yacht around to the lee side of the island into calm water behind a coral reef. Willy watched all this from the bridge wing with his father. All the while he wished the risk of diving wasn't being taken.

His concern moved to anxiety when Capt Kirk came down and answered the radio, then held out a small hand-held radio. “Your friends are going diving. The mate wants you and your dad to go up onto the monkey island to keep a lookout for sharks.”

Instantly vivid images of the corpse being torn apart by the shark flooded Willy's mind. ‘Oh hell! I wish they wouldn't go in the water,' he thought. Filled by a firm desire to do all he could to keep Carmen and Andrew safe he called his father and made his way up to the highest level. Once there he began scanning the waves, seeking any sign of tell-tale, triangular fins or even flitting dark shadows. But he was not happy. Even though he could see the bottom under the LCT the sea was just too rough to allow easy surveillance for sharks.

After half an hour he saw two figures clad in dark wetsuits and with SCUBA gear jump off the yacht. Willy's sense of apprehension shot right up. He resumed anxiously scanning the waves.

Another worrying half hour went by before he saw the divers being hauled back aboard the sharply rolling yacht. A few minutes later the radio crackled and informed them that the divers were safe and not going back in. The rope had been removed from the propeller. A few minutes later the small boat headed back to the
Wewak
with everyone on board.

Willy went down to help them back aboard. As Andrew climbed over the rail Willy said, “Well done. You are braver than me.”

Andrew gave him a smile but looked very pale still. “The job was easy,” he replied. Then he said, “But your mate Jacob is a terrible sailor. There are ropes tangled everywhere, torn sails, knots in halliards, and he didn't even know where he was. When we told him he was near Burkett Island he was astonished. He said he thought they were just near Clack Island. That is north of the Flinders Group and is at least fifty miles from here.”

“I thought that the Dutch were good sailors,” Willy's father commented.

Carmen answered him with a snort. “They might be, but Jacob is a Sydneysider, born and bred and makes a living as a builder's labourer. He wouldn't know a barge pole from a mizzen mast. And as for being a diver!”

Words failed her and she shook her head. Curiosity now gnawed at Willy. He asked, “Did they say what they are doing here?”

Graham answered that. “I asked them. They just said touring the coast.”

“Nothing about looking for a treasure?” Willy queried.

Graham shook his head. “Nope. And they didn't seem very friendly. It was like they were glad of the help but really wished we weren't there.” He then moved aft to help hoist the boat back aboard. Andrew and Carmen went to help him.

Willy stood at the rail staring at the yacht, which was now moving under power, heading southwards. ‘I wonder what they are really doing?' he wondered. ‘Are they looking for a treasure?' As the yacht went past a hundred metres away he waved and got an answering wave from the sister (Julia?) but it did not seem very enthusiastic. Then they were gone.

As soon as the boat was hoisted and secured the
Wewak
got under way. Willy returned to the wheelhouse. By then it was 3:00 pm. The day was very hot and he was sunburnt and starting to feel quite tired. For a few minutes he studied the chart and then turned to scan the coastline. This was again coming into view as a line of low hills amid a haze of smoke and sea spray.

As they motored along Willy got a chance to ask Carmen on her own, how the dive had gone. Carmen gave a wry smile and said, “It was OK. Andrew didn't want to do it, but when he saw that I was going in he was determined not to let me do it alone.”

“He hates diving doesn't he?” Willy asked.

Carmen nodded. “Yes, but he doesn't want anyone to know, so don't say anything please.” Then she sighed and smiled. “He is very brave,” she said affectionately.

An hour later the east coast of the Peninsula was only a couple of miles away to port and the details were clear. Willy ticked off the landmarks as they passed them, glad that the voyage was nearly over. Suddenly he stiffened. Coming from the north was a tiny black dot against the sky. It was following the coast. Hastily snatching up binoculars he steadied them on the object. By then it was clear to see with the naked eye. As he had suspected it was an aeroplane- and not just any plane but the
Pterodactyl
!

Willy watched it fly on south, obviously following the coastline. It vanished in the direction of Princess Charlotte Bay. ‘They must have seen us,' he thought. ‘But does Jemmerling have any idea where to look?'

An hour later the
Wewak
was nosed into the beach just to the north of a small rocky headland named Cape Frederick. The group at once began unloading, the 4 Wheelers being driven off immediately. The tide was just on the make and the surf just big enough to be a cause of concern to Capt Kirk. Willy heard him say to Mr Beck and his father, “Now remember that we are due back in five days time, on the third. We will not be able to hang around for more than a few hours, one tide at the most. Also, if the weather gets back we may not be able to beach the
Wewak
. In that case you will have to make your way overland to Lockhart River. Now check the satellite phone again please.”

From his study of the map Willy knew that there was no road within about 50km of the area. In between was a wilderness of swamps and bush. Knowing how hard it had been to push through 5km of scrub made him feel quite anxious. ‘We are going to be very isolated,' he thought. Even though they had an aluminium dinghy with an outboard motor this knowledge did little to ease this sense of intense loneliness.

As the
Wewak
backed off on the rising tide the little party stood on the beach and watched. Willy gave a half-hearted wave to Andrew but also felt a sense of quite determination. ‘We are here now. So we have a chance to find the ‘Beaufighter' wreck. We have beaten Mr Jemmerling.'

No sooner had he thought this than he heard the distant hum of aero engines. Looking south he saw the aircraft heading towards them. It was just visible above the ridge leading to the headland. After watching it for a few seconds he shook his head in dismay. The silhouette was too distinctive for him to be mistaken. ‘Oh no! It is the
Pterodactyl!'

 

 

CHAPTER 29

 

RUN!

 

It was instantly obvious to Willy that the people in the ‘Catalina' had seen them. The plane put its nose down and dived, to roar over at about 500 feet. Then it began to circle them.  As it did Willy felt a growing sense of unease. He turned to Mr Beck and said, “Can you remember exactly where the wreck of the ‘Beaufighter' is Mr Beck?”

Mr Beck had been watching the ‘Catalina', his face a mask of anxiety. He turned to Willy and nodded, then pointed north along the beach. “Yes, it is about a kilometre north along the beach. I am fairly sure I can locate it easily.”

By then the
Pterodactyl
had begun circling further north, over the area Mr Beck had indicated. Little alarm bells began ringing in Willy's mind. “Mr Beck, I think they are searching for the wreck. Is it possible for them to see it from the air?”

Mr Beck bit his lip and then nodded. “Possibly. Depends whether the wind has blown off any of the sand that we covered it with.”

“How long ago was that?” Willy asked as he watched the ‘Catalina' come even lower and circle even further north along the beach.

“Ten years,” Mr Beck replied.

Norman swore and then said, “I don't like the way he is circling there. That is about where the wreck is.”

“We had better get there quickly,” Willy suggested.

Norman frowned. “But that will give them an even better clue where to look. They will see us searching.”

That put Willy into a ferment of doubt. Was it better? Then he saw the
Pterodactyl
do a wide sweep off to the north, before turning and going even lower. As he watched it he felt another flutter of apprehension. Then a movement on the ‘Catalina's' wingtips crystallized the situation for him. “He is lowering his wing floats. He is going to land,” he said.

“That might mean he has seen something,” Norman said, his face set.

“I think he has,” Willy agreed. “Why else would he risk landing on waves as big as this.”

By then it was obvious that the ‘Catalina' was doing a landing approach. This would take it diagonally out to sea, facing into the wind and waves. Willy watched it for a few more seconds and then said, “If Mr Jemmerling has seen the wreck he might get to it before us. That might mean he can claim it if he has another permit.”

Mr Beck nodded. “He is sure to have.”

Willy felt a surge of desperation. “Then we must get there before him and stake our claim. Come on, run!”

With that he set off running.  As he did he saw the ‘Catalina' strike the waves with its hull. It did this so hard it threw up a huge shower of spray and bounced. The plane smacked down again on the next wave crest. ‘That looks dangerous,' Willy thought as the ‘Catalina' bounced again and again, each bounce lower and slower than the previous one.  That confirmed Willy in his suspicion that the people in the aircraft had indeed seen the wreck.

By then Willy had run a hundred metres but already he was tiring and puffing hard. He kept his head turned to watch the plane, noting that it was safely down and slowing quickly in the smaller waves outside the surf zone.  A few hundred metres further out from it was the
Wewak.
The LCT had now reversed into deeper water and swung her bows to face north and was proceeding on her way. Tiny figures lining her rail and bridge showed that those on board were watching.

‘I wish Graham was here,' Willy thought. ‘He is a lot fitter than me.'

That fitness was now of crucial importance became quickly apparent as the ‘Catalina' slowed and turned, then began taxiing back along its landing run. ‘On no!' Willy groaned. He was now gasping for breath and labouring and had only run about 200 metres. Already a painful stitch was beginning to grab in his right side.

He had no choice but to slow to a panting walk. As he did he watched the
Pterodactyl
surge back past him, rolling and pitching as it crossed the waves diagonally. ‘Surely they aren't going to try to drive it in through the surf?' Willy thought anxiously.  He knew that if that was possible and it could be run up onto the beach then the people in it could just jump out and run into the dunes to the wreck long before he and the others could reach it.

It was only then that he realized that the others were not running with him. He looked back and saw why. They had been busy hastily untying the load from the 4 Wheelers and now both of the tiny vehicles were roaring along the hard sand near the water, Mr Beck and Willy's father on one and Norman on the other.

Willy came to a stop and gulped in great lung fulls of air to get his breath back. ‘We might have a chance,' he thought, ‘but only if..' Even as he thought this his hopes shot up as he saw the ‘Catalina' spin round in a flurry of spray and come to a standstill about 200m off the beach. The flying boat was already about 500m further along but Willy was suddenly hopeful. ‘That must mean they are not game to drive her in through the surf,' he thought. ‘They will have to launch a rubber boat and paddle ashore. We do have a chance!'

Mr Beck's 4 Wheeler went racing past and Willy waved them on. Norman's pulled up and Willy quickly scrambled aboard. Even before he was settled on the small cargo tray Norman had it moving again. “Go! Go!” Willy shouted excitedly.

They went racing on along the beach. Norman kept right down near the water's edge where the sand was firmer although several times they hit soft patches which threatened to bog them. Each time Willy's heart went into his mouth. ‘Oh no! Don't bog!' he thought. It would be just too cruel to be that close to success and to be beaten again.

Heart in mouth with trepidation he saw the ‘Catalina' anchor. A minute later, when the 4 Wheelers were another 300m further along the beach, he saw a dark shape appear from the port side where he knew the door was. It was a rubber dinghy and it had three men in it. From that distance he could not identify them but one was all dressed in long whites and had a white hat. ‘That might be Mr Jemmerling,' he thought.

“How much further?” Willy shouted in Norman's ear.

“Just past this patch of trees,” Norman replied.

Willy looked and saw that a straggly clump of spindly looking mangroves extended from the swamp behind the dunes to a wide stretch of dark mud. The mud extended down to the edge of the sea, ending abruptly in a short, vertical drop. The thought that the mud might be their undoing had him praying and tense but then he saw Mr Beck's 4 Wheeler slowly grind across it, wobbling and sinking but not deep enough to bog.

Norman made his own track across the bumpy mass. It was slow going and Willy fretted, aware that the rubber boat now had an outboard engine going and was motoring quickly in towards the beach. He looked down anxiously as the 4 Wheeler suddenly tilted but then it righted itself and churned on across the uneven, spongy surface. Willy now saw that the mud was actually laced with tree roots and was mostly firm.

Then they were across and the engine was whining at high speed, the noise music to Willy's ears. Twice the 4 Wheeler struck soft patches and nearly tipped over, slewing alarmingly. Willy clung on and whooped. By the time they had covered another hundred metres the rubber boat was in the surf and only a hundred metres from the shore.