Coasts of Cape York (6 page)

Jacob nodded. “Yes, van der Heyden is Dutch. My grandfather was from the Netherlands.”

Mr Southall said, “But from your accent you aren't Dutch. You are dinki-di Aussie.”

“Yes,” Jacob agreed. “My father was born in Australia and so was I but my mother is from Holland.”

For a moment Mr Southall stared unseeingly out the porthole, then he said, “There was a Dutchman named van der Heyden on the first ‘Sandringham' I ever flew on. Back in 1965 that was, flying from Rose Bay in Sydney to Lord Howe Island. He was our navigator. The ‘Sandringham' was a large, four-engine flying boat.”

Jacob's face at once lit up with interest. “My grandfather was a navigator on the big flying boats. He did that for about twenty years.”

“What was his name?” Mr Southall asked.

“Cornelius, Cornelius van der Heyden,” Jacob answered.

“That sounds like the name,” Mr Southall said, nodding thoughtfully. “I was only a young second officer then but I remember him. He flew in flying boats during the Second World War and settled in Australia after the war.”

“That would be my grandfather,” Jacob agreed. “He was an officer in the Royal Netherlands Navy back then. He flew from the East Indies to Australia in a Royal Netherlands Navy flying boat when the Japanese invaded.”

“Is your grandfather still alive?” Mr Southall asked.

Jacob shook his head and Willy thought he saw tears form in the corners of his eyes. “No. he died a few months ago,” he answered.

“Sorry. He was grand chap,” Mr Southall answered. He then tapped his pencil on the notebook. “OK, let's get a few facts. Can you give me your address so I can notify the authorities.”

Jacob gave an address and phone number in Sydney. The house was in Manly and Willy could picture that, having been to Sydney a few times on holidays to see relatives. ‘Great beach. Lots of pretty girls,' he thought.

Mr Southall then asked, “This boat, the
Saurian
, describe her please.”

“A small launch, a cabin cruiser, ten metres long, white hull, the cabin taking up most of her length. Dinghy lashed on top. Hundred horse power diesel engine. No funnel,” Jacob answered.

“Not very big to be this far out to sea in,” the navigator commented.

Jacob shrugged and did not answer. Mr Southall asked him for the details of registry and registration number. Jacob gave these. Mr Southall then said, “You'd better tell us all the details. I will have to radio the police about this.”

Jacob sighed and nodded. “I suppose so.” It was very obvious to Willy that he did not want to talk about what had happened.

Again he hesitated and Mr Southall frowned. “Go on. What were you doing up this way and how did you meet these characters?” he prompted.

Jacob sighed. “We were just.. er.. touring by boat. Karl and I were just hitching a ride.”

Mr Southall looked hard at him and said, “So why should they shoot your friend and threaten to shoot you?”

“Just an argument.”

“Rot! You mentioned that they wanted something from you,” Mr Southall said. To Willy he sounded angry.

“Nothing important,” Jacob answered lamely.

“Do they have it now?” Mr Southall answered.

“What do you mean?” Jacob said. Willy noticed his hand go to the zip-up wallet at his waist.

Mr Southall sighed. “Listen laddie, we have just risked our lives to rescue you and I don't like being given the run-around. You said they wanted something. If you don't have it on you then it must still be on their boat. Do you have it?”

Jacob blushed and bit his lip, then nodded. “I have it,” he said.

When he didn't say any more the navigator said, “Is it a treasure map or something?”

“Why do you say that?” Jacob answered.

“Because mate,” the navigator replied, “People don't usually shoot other people for nothing. If it's not some sort of domestic or family feud then it must be over money.”

Jacob looked sick. Mr Southall said, “Are you on a treasure hunt?”

Jacob licked his lips and nodded. “Sort of. We are looking for.. for something. It isn't mine so I'm not at liberty to say what it is.”

“And you have a map?” Mr Southall pressed.

“Only a tracing and some handwritten notes,” Jacob answered. Again his hands fluttered near the zip-up wallet and this time he gave a wry grin and unzipped it. “If they are still any good after all that time in the water,” he added miserably.

From out of the wallet he extracted a mushy pulp of paper and a wallet. Mr Southall unclipped the table and lowered it and Jacob placed the items on it. Then he tried to open them up and spread them out. It was instantly apparent to Willy that it was likely to be a hopeless task. Not only had most of the pages turned to mush but the ink had run. As Jacob tried to tease the wet sheets apart they just tore or came apart.

The navigator laughed mirthlessly. “I hope you've got a copy of all that,” he said.

Jacob did not answer but Willy noted a tiny nod. He thought that Jacob looked really sick and distressed. ‘A treasure!' he thought excitedly. ‘What can it be?' He knew it couldn't be pirate treasure as found in other places as there was never piracy like that on the Queensland coast. ‘Gold perhaps, stolen during the gold rushes of the 19
^th
Century? Or maybe pearls from when there was a huge pearling fleet operating up this way a hundred years ago?'

 

 

CHAPTER 4

 

CALCULATED RISK

 

While Jacob worked at the apparently hopeless task of retrieving his maps and notes Mr Southall continued questioning. “So, this Gator character and his crony Corey, where did you meet up with them?”

“In Sydney. Karl knew them. We needed a boat and he knew them. I didn't like the idea but I did not have enough money to hire my own boat. Also Gator and Corey know about boats and had been up to North Queensland before and neither Karl nor I had any experience of boats, so I said yes,” Jacob explained.

“So whatever you are looking for is at sea or on an island?” the navigator commented.

Jacob looked surprised and then made his face go blank. “What makes you think that?” he replied.

The navigator smiled and said, “Because if it was on land you could have driven there.”

Willy saw Jacob's face twitch as he tried to control his expressions. Jacob made no reply.

Mr Southall looked puzzled. “Did they know what you were coming here to look for?” he queried.

Jacob frowned and said, “I don't know. Yes. I suppose they must have. Karl must have told them. The whole thing was his idea.”

“Why?”

Jacob shook his head and looked uncomfortable. “I can't say. It really doesn't involve you and my family are involved. It is for them to decide.”

“Fair enough,” Mr Southall replied. “OK, you look just about all in young Jacob so we will tuck you into bed. George, you look after him please. Young Willy, you'd better get back out with your mates and we will do something about making this ship smell a bit better.”

Reluctantly Willy made his way out. He noted that the port door was now shut but all of the deck near it was awash with several centimetres of water and spew. The seaplane was rocking and pitching so much that he had to walk with both hands on the seats or sides to stay on his feet. He saw that the deck all the way aft was sticky with a slush of vomit and water and the vile smell made his stomach turn. That more was liable to be added to it was plainly obvious from the miserable looks and peculiar colouring of some of the cadets.

It gave him a mild spurt of malicious satisfaction to see that Finlay was visibly green around the eyes and cheeks. Pilot Officer Lowe, a chubby female officer, looked a sort of pasty grey. Even Marjorie looked deathly white under her freckles and her eyes looked bigger than normal. The only spare seat on the temporary webbing seating was between her and Dodd so he squeezed himself in.

Marjorie at once gripped his arm and pressed against him. “Oh Willy, I'm glad you are back,” she said.

“Why? What can I do?” he wondered aloud, a little annoyed at the public display of affection and the way others looked at them. Because ‘fraternization' was strongly frowned on in the Air Cadets he had no wish to have people suspect that he and Marjorie were much more than just friends.

“Just because,” she muttered, pressing closer.

‘She's scared!' he thought, quite surprised at the idea.

Cadet Under-Officer Mathieson leaned across and said, “What's happening Cadet Williams?”

Willy really admired CUO Mathieson, and one of his strongest ambitions was to be promoted to be a CUO just like him. CUO Mathieson was in Year 12 and looked the very image of the sort of young officer Willy wanted to be. So he proceeded to tell him everything he knew, others nearby leaning over to listen.

It was uncomfortable though. The tail of the ‘Catalina' was swinging much more than the hull and from time to time it would go up and down with sicking swoops that even left Willy bathed in a cold sweat. Sometimes the undersides would smack into the surface of the sea and send a shudder through the aircraft. It was then that Willy understood how Marjorie was feeling, both mentally and physically, and he was ashamed to admit to himself that he was just a tiny bit afraid.

Marjorie pressed his right arm and whispered, “Wasn't it awful. I'm sorry we weren't able to save that other man before the sharks got him. I was sick when I saw what they had done to him.”

Willy's mind swirled with horrific images of that corpse and of Uncle Ted's mutilated body and he croaked, “Yes. I don't want to talk about it thanks.”

Marjorie, who had been at the farm the night Uncle Ted was murdered, gave him an understanding nod and squeezed his upper arm. Willy had to resist the temptation to put his arm around her and felt a surge of affection for her.

The talk died away after a while as the cadets began to succumb to exhaustion. Just bracing against the continual rocking and sudden movements was tiring. When the anxiety and morbid memories were included it quickly added up. Willy badly wanted to be able to stretch out and sleep but there was nowhere he could.

For another hour the flying boat powered up and down to maintain a safe position clear of the reefs. Willy found he needed to go to the toilet. He waited till he saw Flight Sgt Anderson come out and then made his way forward. After visiting the toilet, which was a nauseous experience because it was full to overflowing, Willy found he was thirsty. He made the few steps across to the galley to get a drink. A glance to the right showed Jacob sleeping on bedding placed on the floor of the crew cabin.

The flight engineer was there and met his gaze. “Too rough for him to sleep on the bench seat,” he explained.

“I'll buy that,” Willy replied, bracing himself against another sudden lurch. “It's getting rougher isn't it?”

“Yes it is,” the flight engineer answered. He looked grey with fatigue himself and that made Willy even more anxious.

At that moment the co-pilot came down the steps from the flight deck. He nodded to Willy and said to the flight engineer, “We are going to have to risk a take-off Cyril. The wind is not only picking up but is changing direction. It is swinging around to the north and is starting to blow straight down this channel between the two reefs.”

The flight engineer nodded and looked grim. “So the sea will get even choppier and more unpredictable then. How long before the tide turns?”

“It turned about twenty minutes ago, just after midday,” the co-pilot answered, “But it will take a couple of hours to reverse its flow in any noticeable way. We can't afford to hang around that long.”

The co-pilot now turned to Willy. “Can you get your officer son? I need to brief him.”

Willy made his way aft to the port blister where Flying Officer Turnbull was seated with two sick cadets. “Sir, the co-pilot would like to speak to you,” he said. From the blister he was able to see out over the miles of churned up sea and seeing that made him truly frightened. He realized he could no longer clearly see where the reefs were because the sea was so confused and there were so many whitecaps.

‘We are in trouble,' he thought.

Flying Officer Turnbull made his way forward. A few minutes later he made his way aft, stopping to speak to groups of cadets as he did. At each person he checked they had their lifejackets on and their seatbelt securely fastened. When he reached Willy and his group he said, “We are going to take off. The captain warns that it will be rough and that it might be dangerous. You need to be ready to evacuate if we crash.”

“Crash!” Marjorie gasped.

Flight Sergeant Anderson gulped and looked scared. “Can't they just motor around behind the reef or an island or something?”

Flying Officer Turnbull shook his head. “I asked the captain that. He says that the problem is that the sea is becoming so confused that they can't see the reefs clearly and we could run onto one.”

“Better to crash in the open sea,” CUO Mathieson added.

Willy tried to imagine struggling out of a wrecked aircraft into the welter of surf on a coral reef. ‘We would just be ground to pulp,' he thought. ‘That's assuming we can even get out.'

Then another ghastly thought came to him. ‘If we are down in the sea then the sharks might come!' That chilled him even more and he could only pray that things would go well.

To his dismay he heard the aircraft's engines begin to bellow. He wanted to cry out that he wasn't ready, that they hadn't discussed this and needed more time to explore the options and to discuss the situation. Then he felt Marjorie gripping him tightly and he realized that he wasn't the only one who was scared. That helped. He smiled at her and put an arm around her.