Coasts of Cape York (5 page)

Willy took the offered hand, blushing as he did. “Willy. Willy Williams,” he replied.

After shaking hands Jacob nodded and said, “When I saw the plane go over I was full of hope but then it just flew off and I thought I was done for.”

“I wasn't sure if it was a man I saw,” Willy explained. “It took me a few minutes to convince the officers and the pilot.”

“Officers?” Jacob queried, his eyes roving over Willy's blue uniform with its rank badges on epaulets.

“I'm an air cadet,” Willy explained.

Jacob nodded. “So this is an air force plane?”

“No, it's just painted this way for historical re-enactments,” Willy replied. He began to explain the history of the ‘Catalina'. As he did the men went past the door, carrying the blanket shrouded body. Willy had his back to them but he saw Jacob's face go pale, his freckles standing out very clearly.

Jacob then began to shiver and tremble. Willy realized he probably had hyperthermia from being in the cold water so long. “I'll get you a blanket,” he said, standing up and moving to the door. But that immediately led to another view of the body being stowed in the tiny storage space in under the flight deck.  Mr Southall asked what he wanted and then came to get him a blanket from a small cupboard beside the galley.

“I'll make him a hot drink,” he added. “You keep talking to him.”

Willy took the blanket and wrapped it around the shoulders of the violently shaking Jacob. In fact he was shivering so badly that his teeth were clacking together and Willy felt quite alarmed. He had read about people who had been rescued and had then just died. To keep Jacob's mind busy Willy asked, “Where do you come from?”

“Sydney,” Jacob replied.

Mr Southall came in a few minutes later carrying a cup of hot cocoa. While Jacob drank this Willy looked out of the porthole in the starboard side. From time to time he heard the engines roaring and he deduced that the co-pilot was keeping them facing into the weather.

When Jacob had warmed up and calmed down a bit Mr Southall, the navigator and flight engineer all crowded into the tiny cabin. Willy wasn't sure if he should leave but found he was blocked in the far corner so stayed. Mr Southall made no move to tell him to go. That suited Willy as he was curious about what had happened.

Mr Southall introduced himself and the other men and then pointed to Willy and said, “You owe your life to this young man. If he hadn't spotted you and then convinced me to turn back we would have kept on flying.”

Jacob looked at Willy and said thanks, making Willy blush and mumble that it was nothing.  Mr Southall then said, “Now, are you alright? Have you got any injuries? Do you need a doctor or anything like that?”

Jacob shook his head. “No. I'm not hurt. Just worn out and cold. I'll be right.”

Mr Southall nodded and said, “So a few minutes more won't matter. So, who is the dead man?”

Jacob looked wretched. “His name is... was... Karl Renderman. He was my friend.”

They were diverted from him telling his tale by the seaplane giving several very sharp rolls which sent them all bumping against the bulkheads. Willy heard the engines roar and again looked out the window. What he saw scared him. As far as he could see were tossing wave tops.

Mr Southall excused himself and went up to the flight deck. The awkward silence that followed was filled by helping Jacob to the toilet and then giving him another drink. When Mr Southall came back he said, “We have drifted out into a deeper bit of water away from the lee of the reef. Frank is taking us back in closer now. Time we were airborne I think.”

Willy was now torn. He badly wanted to hear Jacob's story, but he also wanted to try to get back up onto the flight deck to watch the take-off. He was disappointed when Mr Southall said, “Willy, you stay here with young Jacob. I will get one of your officers to help.”

All Willy could do was nod and hide his disappointment. He smiled at Jacob and then had to keep his features fixed when Flying Officer Turnbull appeared in the doorway. He came in and held up a lifejacket. “Captain says to put this on while we take off,” he said to Jacob.

Jacob took off the towel and stood up. Flying Officer Turnbull introduced himself, then pointed to the belt and zipped up wallet around Jacob's waist. “Would you like to take that off?”

Jacob shook his head vigorously. “No, that has my money and the.. the.. er a few things that are important,” he replied. He then allowed them to place the lifejacket over his head. While they did this they were several times almost thrown off their feet by quite violent rocking as bigger waves slammed against the hull. Willy was glad to sit down and brace himself in the corner where he could see out of the porthole.

Willy heard the engines increase in revolutions and he looked out. ‘We are only taxiing,' he decided. He also thought it was very rough, much rougher than when they had landed. The seaplane seemed to slam and buffet into the waves and he saw sheets of spray flying past. The motion became so unpredictable and violent that he began to experience pricklings of unease. ‘Something wrong,' he decided.

He was right but got no explanation for nearly twenty minutes during which time the ‘Catalina' taxied back and forth in several directions, sometimes with the waves and sometimes across or against them. Looking out Willy saw that they were now very close to the edge of the reef, the foam of breaking waves being only about fifty metres away.

The engines were throttled back to idle and Willy got another shock. He saw that the wind was blowing sideways across the reef to strike them almost beam on but that the ‘Catalina' was sliding crabwise along very quickly to port. Then his eyes noted the swirl of current along the edge of the reef.

“Something wrong?” asked Jacob anxiously.

“Not sure. Might be too rough to take off,” Willy answered.

Jacob joined him at the porthole but only looked out for a few seconds before visibly shuddering and shaking his head before sitting down again. ‘He doesn't want to end up back in the sea,' Willy thought.

Ten more minutes of engines throttling up followed, the ‘Catalina' buffeting across a confused set of waves. Then it turned in a welter of spray and big waves which tossed them hard against walls and bulkheads. Willy noted that he was now looking westwards. The ‘Catalina' began powering back against the current. After five more minutes of this the engines dropped to an idle and Mr Southall came down.

He poked his head in the door and said to Flying Officer Turnbull, “Too rough. I'm not going to risk it just yet. The tide is ebbing really fast and that is causing a strong current seawards. The wind is coming across the reef and meeting this and is churning up a very confused sea.”

“Will we be able to get off?” Flying Officer Turnbull asked, anxiety clear in his voice.

“When the tide turns, or if the wind drops,” Mr Southall replied.

“What if the current pushes us onto a reef?” Flying Officer Turnbull queried, voicing Willy's fear.

“We will use the engines to get clear,” Mr Southall answered.

“How long can you do that for?” Flying Officer Turnbull asked.

Mr Southall gave a wry grin and said, “About another ten hours before we run out of fuel.”

Willy felt another chill of fear. He asked, “Don't flying boats have anchors? Can't you anchor?” he asked.

Mr Southall nodded. “We do have an anchor. We thought of that but can't find anywhere safe to do it. The coral reef drops off into very deep water and we can't reach the bottom. We have been up and down looking for somewhere. And I don't want to secure ourselves to the reef. That would be too close and it would only take a big wave or sudden wind shift to put us on the reef. That would be disastrous.”

Willy glanced out at the churning whitecaps and imagined the thin aluminium hull grinding and tearing on the hard coral. ‘It rips the bottom out of big ships,' he thought. ‘An aircraft hull wouldn't stand a chance.' The idea of having to get out onto those waves in a small rubber dingy did not appeal to him at all. ‘Not with those sharks around!' he thought.

Flying Officer Turnbull then said, “So we are in trouble.”

Mr Southall nodded and said, “Yes, serious trouble.”

“Can't you radio for help, get a ship to come and pick us up or something?” Jacob cried, clearly very anxious.

“George is doing that right now,” Mr Southall replied. “We have already been in contact with Cairns by radio but radio reception isn't very good down here at sea level. They know there is a problem and our location but that doesn't mean they can do much to help us.”

“But there must be ships!” Jacob cried.

“Calm down mister. If we have to we will try to taxi all the way to the coast. They might even be able to contact some yacht or launch. We are safe enough for the moment.”

Jacob still looked very anxious. He said, “But what about helicopters or something?”

Mr Southall shook his head. “The nearest proper rescue chopper is at Cairns and will take about two hours to reach us at the earliest, and it will only be able to winch off three or four people. You will be one of them. The only other choppers in the area are tiny ones used for mustering cattle. They can only carry two people and I wouldn't want to be flying one of them this far out to sea.”

Willy found all that very sobering. He knew they were about 20 nautical miles offshore but had left his chart up on the flight deck so could not check. Flying Officer Turnbull went out to brief the other cadets about what was going on. Mr Southall took Jacob to the toilet again and then got him another drink and some sandwiches. Flying Officer Turnbull then came back and sat down.

“Some very seasick cadets back there,” he said. “It's a bit of a mess I'm afraid.”

As the officer said this Willy realized that he had been able to smell the vomit for some time. Now the sour stench made his stomach turn over and he broke into a cold sweat. Mr Southall just nodded.

A moment later the navigator came back down and said, “No luck. The nearest trawler is down past Cooktown and couldn't get here before midnight and the nearest ship is a Panamanian bulk carrier just passing Thursday Island. It won't be in this area before tomorrow morning.”

Willy experienced another spasm of what he grudgingly admitted was real fear. However he tried to keep his face calm, even as he tried to imagine what it must be like to float in the open ocean. To emphasize their situation the engines increased their revolutions and the ‘Catalina' began butting across the waves again as the co-pilot moved them away from the edge of the reef again.

Mr Southall seated himself on the end of the bench nearest the door and looked at Jacob. “Well young Jacob, you may as well tell us your story while we wait.”

Jacob nodded but did not answer. To Willy he seemed to shrink inside the blanket.

When he did not speak Mr Southall said, “Well, what happened? Who shot your friend, and how did you come to be in the water?”

For a few seconds Jacob appeared to hesitate and he shook his head before saying, “There was a fight on our boat and they shot Karl because.. because… er, anyway, I had to jump overboard to save my own life.”

“Who shot him?”

“'Gator' did. Gavin Smith's his name but his nickname is ‘Gator',” Jacob replied.

“Why?”

“Because he wanted Karl to steal my.. er.. my er things. And Karl wouldn't be in it. He said he would tell me their plan so Corey, that's Gator's mate, tried to stop him. There was a fight and Corey drew a knife and Karl knocked him down and then ran up on deck. I was there and had heard them arguing. I was steering you see. Then Gator appeared in the companionway with a gun and Karl tried to jump him.”

Jacob stopped and gave a little sob and then shook his head as though in disbelief. Then he went on, “Gator shot him. I couldn't believe it! Karl staggered backwards and as the boat rolled on a wave he just went over the side. It was my fault! I let go of the steering and the boat yawed. It.. I.. Oh!”

For a minute Jacob was too distressed to speak. Then he continued, “Anyway, Gator shouted at me to give him the.. the.. er my things… or he'd kill me too. He started up the companionway with the gun and I panicked and ran. But she is only a tiny little launch and there was nowhere to hide and no weapon handy so I dived overboard.”

He shuddered, though whether from the recollection or the cold Willy could not tell. Then he said, “Just as well I did. Gator fired at me and I had to dive under.”

“What time was this?” Mr Southall asked.

“About eleven o'clock last night,” Jacob answered. “If it hadn't been so dark he would have easily seen me and shot me. As it was he and Corey got the boat under control and came back looking. They circled for half an hour, shining torches and calling out saying they wouldn't hurt me.”

Mr Southall obviously did the same calculation Willy had as he said, “So you have been in the water for about eleven hours?”

“Yes,” Jacob replied. He took a sip from his refilled cup.

Mr Southall shook his head and said, “You are lucky this is the Coral Sea and not the North Atlantic! You wouldn't have lasted eleven minutes in that.”

The navigator spoke up, “You are bloody lucky it is October too. The average sea temperature at the moment is about twenty three degrees.”

Jacob swallowed another gulp and nodded, then said, “Yes, I know. The sea felt quite warm. It was my head that felt cold, with the wind chilling it.”

Mr Southall again took out a notebook and pen and said, “What is the name of your boat?”

Jacob looked unhappy and said, “Not my boat. She‘s ‘Gator's'. She is a motor launch called the
Saurian.
It means crocodile or alligator.”

Mr Southall then looked at Jacob and said, “Your name is of Dutch origin isn't it?”