The Silent Country

by Di Morrissey

  ‘You show us big crocodile, for Drago,’ said Topov. ‘Drago, get close-up pictures.’

  Drago didn’t answer.

  ‘Have you ever hunted in the daytime?’ Marta asked Len, thinking that it would all feel less threatening if the sun were shining.

  ‘Yeah. Some nights if I haven’t been able to get a croc, I put out a marker buoy and come back in daylight and have another go. Crocs tend to sit on the bottom. If it’s clear water I might dive down and take a gander to see what he’s doing.’

  The two boats set off, close together, the engines so quiet that they could still carry on a conversation.

  ‘You ever had a croc attack you?’ asked Peter.

  ‘If I had I wouldn’t be here to tell the tale,’ said Len.

  Marta shuddered. ‘Imagine those jaws eating you up.’

  ‘Crocs don’t eat you right away,’ said Len in a chatty tone. ‘They grab whatever takes their fancy then roll and roll, the death roll it’s called, and drown their prey. Then if it’s something big like a dog, a ’roo, a big lizard, they shove it somewhere, under mangrove roots, under a submerged log, to let it rot a bit. Then they come back and eat.’

  ‘Ugh. That’s horrible,’ said Marta.

  Clive, squatting quietly in the bow, scanned the dark water. He lifted his arm and Len cut the engine. Clive pointed up ahead, held up a light and swung it across the surface of the water.

  ‘Do you see anything?’ Marta whispered across to Colin.

  ‘No. Do they make any noise?’ Colin asked Len in a low voice.

  ‘They have a bark-like call I’ve heard on occasion. There, look up on the right. See the two red dots, that’s his eyes. They’re on top of his head which is why they can lie there submerged and still hunt.’

  Len signalled Drago who called softly. ‘Yes, I see. Too far away to film. Clive, can you stand up?’

  Topov took the light from Clive. ‘Good picture, take him,’ he told Drago who had already been filming Clive’s loose-limbed body balancing easily as he held the heavy, sharpened harpoon head while Len took an oar and paddled the boat towards the red eyes.

  ‘Where is monster?’ asked Topov in a loud voice, swinging the light across the water.

  ‘Quiet, Topov, don’t alert him,’ hissed Peter who’d seen the red glow of the crocodile’s eyes.

  Len chuckled. ‘He’s right. This is a monster . . . You can tell by how far apart his eyes are.’

  The dark surface of the water was crumpled over the spiny back of the floating crocodile. Len rowed slowly forward. Clive lifted his arm and hurled the harpoon. Drago swung the camera onto the thrashing croc, which disappeared from sight as the rope spun out of the boat. Suddenly the rope went taut and the dinghy was towed roughly through the water by the fast-swimming crocodile. Marta screamed and clutched one side of the boat.

  Topov leapt to his feet shouting.

  ‘Sit down, Topov,’ shouted Drago. ‘I can’t see what’s happening.’

  ‘Keep up,’ called Peter.

  Clive began hauling the rope, inching hand over hand, his face creased with effort.

  ‘It’s too bloody big, mate,’ cried Len.

  ‘Be careful,’ screamed Marta. ‘It’ll pull you in!’

  There was a moment of tension when everything seemed to stop. Clive stood motionless, not relaxing his hold on the rope. The crocodile had stopped swimming. A second or two later and seemingly out of nowhere, the croc spun forward, charging the boat and leaping out of the water in front of Clive.

  Marta screamed. Clive fell backward into the boat as Len scrambled between Marta and Topov with his rifle. Topov grabbed the oar that Len had dropped and stood up, poking at the thrashing crocodile as it twisted, rocking the boat alarmingly and preventing him from taking aim. There was a crunching sound and the croc dropped back into the water.

  ‘You all right, mate?’ Len asked Clive as he got back to his feet. ‘Bring the light here.’

  He grabbed the light and they saw that the wood had splintered and that part of the bow was now crushed. Len checked the damage and turned around and gave Marta a tooth. ‘He left some teeth behind. Have to dig the rest of them out with a knife.’

  ‘Where is it? Will it come back?’ asked Marta fearfully.

  ‘He got ’em harpoon, boss,’ said Clive ruefully.

  ‘That’s going to slow him down a bit,’ said Len. ‘Where do you reckon he is?’

  Clive inclined his head and Len shone the light across the water.

  ‘Where is monster? Bring him back for pictures,’ shouted Topov.

  Len glanced back at Marta. ‘Struth, the man is crazy.’ He waved at Topov. ‘Why don’t you just jump in and haul him up? He’s down there, under the boat.’

  Len cut the motor and they drifted quietly for a few more minutes, slowly waving the light across the river. Then Clive pointed and as Len steadied the spotlight they saw the frayed end of the thick rope on the surface of the water.

  ‘I’ll paddle us over there,’ Len said quietly. Dipping the oar in from side to side, he inched the boat towards the rope. In a swift move Clive leaned down and grabbed it as Peter brought the runabout closer. Topov began issuing instructions loudly to Drago.

  ‘Cripes, hit Topov over the head will you,’ said Len.

  They were in shallower water now, but as Clive anchored the ropes around the small front seat, the croc suddenly resurfaced, making another lunge at the middle of the boat where Marta sat. It flung itself upright on its tail, flashing the pale yellow skin of its underbelly. Marta shrank back and the boat rocked dangerously. Amidst the cries, shouts and shrieks there was an explosion as Len fired his .303 rifle into the head of the crocodile, which went limp, almost instantly.

  ‘Stand up, Marta,’ shouted Topov. ‘Shoot with rifle!’ cried Topov as Peter brought their boat close to the action for Drago to film.

  ‘Got ’im ’tween the eyes, boss. Good shot, eh.’ Clive, who’d grabbed the croc started lashing it to the side of the boat as Len ripped the motor to life.

  The weight of the croc slowed the boat, but as soon as they were back at the clearing where they’d left the vehicles, the men all helped drag the croc onto the bank. Helen and Johnny hurried down to see what was happening. Johnny let out a low whistle, for once at a loss for words.

  ‘My God! It’s enormous,’ said Helen.

  ‘It’s so much longer than the boat,’ said Marta who had started to shake.

  ‘Get lights on him! Marta, you get close,’ called Topov, dancing around the scene, waving his arms.

  ‘Bloody oath. Come on, get down close to him, here’s a rifle,’ said Len, helping Marta into position as the spotlights splayed over the muddy scene. Drago moved in for close-ups. Clive returned from the truck with a huge hook on a length of wire and a chunk of putrid meat.

  ‘What’s that for?’ asked Peter.

  ‘Goin’ fishin’,’ grinned Clive.

  ‘How many more are out there?’ asked Helen.

  ‘They’re pretty territorial. But Clive knows where another old female hangs out. We’ll set this bait.’

  ‘Did you get some good shots?’ Colin asked Drago.

  ‘I hope so. It wasn’t easy.’

  ‘Let’s get this fella into the back of the truck,’ said Len. ‘You can take some more pictures of it in daylight. Then we’ll skin him.’

  Helen stood by the truck, holding one of Len’s rifles, as Johnny held up a spotlight. Marta and Topov headed for the vehicle and, further along the river bank, Peter and Drago pulled the runabout ashore. Len and Clive untied the crocodile lashed to the side of the dinghy, Len standing knee deep in the water as they pulled the heavy animal out of the river. It was chaotic and everyone was excited at capturing the large croc.

  Helen suddenly snapped at Johnny, ‘Lift the light, lift the light. There, to the left.’

  Johnny swung the light to the side. ‘What? Oh Jesus! Is that another one? Len, look out!’

  Before Len and Clive could mov
e, there was a rush of water as another crocodile lunged from the river, jaws snapping. As it leapt forward, Helen raised the rifle she’d been holding and fired without hesitation. The water churned and bubbled, then the croc sank from sight. Clive and Len rushed out of the river.

  ‘Did you get it?’ asked Len. ‘Careful, Clive, it might make another dive at us,’ said Len breathlessly.

  Johnny held the spotlight aloft as they waited, staring at the dark water.

  The others came racing to the truck.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Another one! Stand back.’

  Len looked at Helen holding the rifle. ‘You might have got it. Quick reactions, mate. Thanks.’

  Marta looked at Helen. ‘You shot a crocodile?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  Clive headed to the water’s edge. ‘Yep. Dis fella gone, boss. Gone dead.’ The Aborigine turned and looked at Helen with a big grin. ‘You good shot, missus. Quick one.’

  It was late by the time they got back to the camp. The Aboriginal women were curled up with their dogs by the smouldering campfire. By now everyone was on a high, especially Topov. He produced a bottle of rum from the caravan and passed it around.

  ‘Topov say we go north and get action! Man-eating monster! Good, very good, eh?’

  ‘Yeah, thanks for lining up the croc attack,’ said Johnny dryly. ‘What’s next?’

  ‘Tomorrow you can help Clive with the skinning,’ said Len. ‘Then we’ll head out and see what else we can find. We need a few more skins than this to make a quid or two.’

  ‘What about buffalo? We hunt buffalo, plenty action,’ exclaimed Topov.

  Len finished rolling his cigarette and licked the paper. ‘Yeah. We could do that. Not much money in it, but.’

  ‘Topov, we’re here to make money, remember,’ said Helen.

  ‘We make film and Topov find mineral. We be rich!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ said Johnny.

  ‘In daylight we’ll check the hook,’ said Len. ‘Bring your camera.’

  ‘Yes. We’ll be there,’ said Drago.

  Topov tossed back another mouthful of rum, screwed the cap on and said to Len, ‘You keep teeth of monster for Topov,’ before marching to his caravan.

  Len rolled out his swag. ‘Don’t know how you blokes put up with him.’

  In their tent, Marta snuggled into Colin’s arms. ‘Ooh, I was so afraid. I kept imagining that the crocodile was grabbing me, or that one of us was falling into the water.’ She shuddered.

  ‘You probably won’t be involved anymore in croc hunting. Drago got some good shots, he thinks. But we need a few more skins to sell, that’s for sure,’ said Colin.

  ‘Topov is dangerous. He could cause an accident. He’s crazy, I think,’ said Marta. ‘It’s all his fault we’re out here.’

  ‘He does seem a bit mad at times,’ said Colin. ‘All this mineral and uranium stuff. And why’d he get a fossicker’s licence?’

  ‘I wish he would go away. Fall down a hole, disappear,’ said Marta sleepily. ‘Then Drago could finish the film.’

  Colin kissed her ear. ‘I think everyone is running out of patience with Topov. Come on, let’s not think about him. He just makes me cross.’

  For the next few days Drago, Peter and Johnny worked with Clive, George and Len, capturing five more crocodiles, although none were as big as the first ones. Topov lost interest in croc hunting and began roaming further afield in his hunt for minerals but he refused to talk to the others about where he went and whether he’d had any luck.

  Helen helped Len salt the skins and peg them out to dry in the sun.

  ‘I reckon that you’d make a great croc hunter,’ said Len shyly. ‘Maybe when we get back to Darwin I could take you out on my horses. We haven’t had a chance to yet, have we?’

  Helen smiled. ‘That’d be nice. What will you do with the crocodile skins?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Len, ‘It depends. The best quality belly section is cut out and sold for a good price, while the rest of the croc skin will have to be sold for less. I know this bloke in Darwin, he’ll give us good prices.’

  Remembering the time she had spent at Brolga Springs, Marta enjoyed the company of Mary and Violet. They went out food gathering and she spent hours sitting with them as they showed her how they soaked thin strips of pandanus leaves in a dye solution made from sandstone ochres and tied several of the strips together in a coil which they bound around each other to make mats, baskets and a lid for the cooking pot. Marta especially loved their long dilly bags decorated with feathers, bits of bark and twisted twine and leaves. She tried her hand at weaving but was not dexterous enough and the women giggled as they expertly showed her again what to do. In the end they gave her a bag in return for one of her shirts. Marta was amused to see the women taking turns in wearing it.

  While their life was basic, they enjoyed their meals of crocodile meat and wonderful fish. Most of them fished in their spare time, though it was scarcely a sport. The area was so unspoiled that the fish almost leapt into the boat or onto their hooks. Queen fish, barramundi and giant mud crabs became staples in their diet. It was a wonderful existence.

  Only Colin was out of sorts and he finally confessed to Marta that he was suffering from a toothache that was getting worse by the day. By the middle of the next morning Marta could see how swollen his jaw had become.

  ‘Colin, you have to go back to Darwin and see a dentist. Len, he has to go to Darwin.’

  ‘Topov does not go Darwin,’ said Topov. ‘You go, we stay.’

  ‘I don’t want to interrupt things here,’ said Colin miserably, knowing Len had plans to try and snare another big croc.

  ‘Clive can yank out your tooth,’ said Len. Then seeing the expression on Colin’s face, he grinned, ‘No worries, sport. Take one of the vehicles, George will go with you and see you onto the road to Darwin.’

  ‘Good. I’m happy to drive but I need some guidance to get back out of here onto the main road.’

  Discussion flew around the camp. Clive, George and the women spoke together. Clive then spoke to Len.

  ‘We all move camp. Go to other place. Make business, ceremony.’ He looked questioningly at Colin. ‘Okay. You take us to camp, you and George go to start of Darwin road.’

  Colin looked at Len, who shrugged. ‘If you need to see a dentist then drop the mob off and you go to the big smoke. You might as well stay there, won’t take us long to finish up here, just a couple of days or so.’

  The knowledge that his dreadful pain might soon be eased came as a huge relief to Colin. ‘If that’s okay with everyone, I suppose I can stay in Darwin.’

  ‘See how you go, mate. We’ll see you there in a couple of days, if all goes well,’ said Len.

  So it was agreed that Colin would take the Jeep and drop off Clive and his family at a point where they’d meet up with ‘’nother mob from over west’. George and he would then head west and onto the road to Darwin. Colin packed quickly and hugged Marta.

  ‘No, Marta, don’t think of coming. I’ll be all right. I don’t want you to miss anything exciting,’ said Colin, kissing her. ‘I’ll find somewhere to camp on the beach again. I just want this tooth fixed.’

  ‘I think I’ve had enough excitement,’ said Marta. ‘We’ll celebrate when we’re all back in Darwin. And hopefully Len will get a good price for the skins.’

  Marta waved Colin off with young George confidently driving the Jeep with Clive, Mary, Violet and the baby in the back.

  Marta felt lonely without Colin, Violet and Mary. Suddenly everyone was busy with their own tasks. She was so bored that she even asked Topov is she could go and watch him fossicking.

  At first he was surly and negative, which didn’t upset her as Topov was always grouchy first thing in the morning. So she shrugged and decided to tidy the tent and pack and wash some clothes in the tin of water set by the fire. But later Topov came to her carrying his Geiger counter and a bag with water, his noteb
ook and some food. A hat was crushed on his head, his director’s viewfinder, as usual, was around his neck and his long socks were rolled over his boots and his fancy belt holding up his baggy shorts. His sunglasses were in his top pocket and the remains of his toast were sprinkled on his beard.

  ‘You come if you want. Just short way, first stop near crossing. Later Topov go hunting for more minerals, you come back here.’

  ‘Okay. Sounds like a nice walk,’ said Marta agreeably.

  Topov and Marta walked along the flattened grass tracks to the river downstream. There was a shallow crossing of boulders with ankle-deep water splashing across it. Marta was very hesitant to cross.

  ‘Isn’t this dangerous? Aren’t there crocs around?’

  Topov gave a dismissive wave. ‘No-one eat Topov. Too tough,’ he shouted.

  Marta smiled to herself. Topov was a tough old nut, prickly and hard to crack. She wondered if under the rough shell there was soft heart. If there was, she’d never glimpsed it.

  They splashed over the crossing and into the bush on the other side. Topov soon became engrossed with his Geiger counter and Marta quickly became hot and bored.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

  He waved vaguely towards some rock in the distance. ‘Where rocks are. Very interesting.’

  ‘How much longer will you be? I’m just so hot here and looking for rocks and minerals is boring.’

  ‘I look until it start to get dark. Then I come back.’

  ‘Well, I’m going back now. You be careful of crocs.’ With that she turned and made her way back towards the camp.

  Marta walked back the way they’d come. She stopped under a eucalyptus tree and saw a line of red hills and a strange mushroom-like rock. The landscape before her was coloured in unbelievable hues of reds, blues and greens, spread before her like a brilliant painting.

  No-one would believe that these colours are real, she thought. She stood there as the silence enveloped her. She closed her eyes, straining to pick up even a minute sound, a rustle of the yellow grass, a swish of wind, a creaking branch, the cry of a bird. But all was silent. She opened her eyes and looked around, absorbing the images she’d keep with her for a lifetime.