Claws of the Crocodile

by Bear Grylls

  She nodded and went to work, tugging all the long strands out of the bushes. Meanwhile Beck took the machete and climbed halfway up the tree. He spied out the branches that he wanted – the ones that were straightest, and long enough to reach from the tree to the rock face. It took several strong blows of the machete to sever each one. He felt the effort spreading like a warm glow inside him, and paused to take off his shirt. If he was hot and sweaty, then the shirt would grow damp, and in the evening, that would chill him rather than keeping him warm.

  Eventually five or six branches of the right length lay at the foot of the tree. They all had smaller branches growing off them, each with a thick thatch of eucalyptus leaves. He clambered back down and started to hack the little branches off so that the main ones were bare poles.

  Next Beck began to cut lengths off Brihony’s growing pile of ivy and used this to tie the poles into a rectangular platform. He rested this on the lowest crook in the tree, and used more ivy to tie it firmly to the trunk. The other end rested on the shelf in the rock. The platform wasn’t very wide, but it would be long enough for them to lie on.

  The world flashed white. Beck looked up as a peal of thunder rolled across the Outback. He felt the ground vibrate, and his ears rang. As he watched, he saw another burst of lightning – a jagged dagger that flickered between Earth and sky, so bright that it left a green scar at the back of his eyes. Someone had once told him that in the north of Australia, ten people a year were killed by lightning. He didn’t want to be the eleventh.

  Part of the shelter was complete, but he needed more poles to make a roof for the platform. He had taken enough wood from the big eucalyptus, so he turned to a cluster of younger trees where the trunks were thinner, and started again.

  Eventually Beck had five new poles. He tied the thickest two together at one end so that they made something like a large A without the crosspiece. He propped this against the rock so that the supports were on either side of the platform. Then he rested one end of a third pole in the notch where the two poles met, and the other on a higher branch of the eucalyptus so that it was above the platform. He tied the last two poles halfway up each support of the A at one end, securing the other end to the tree. It was like a framework above their bed platform.

  Brihony had finished with her ivy pulling and had been watching for the last five minutes. ‘Anything I can do?’ she asked.

  Beck thought. It would have been great if she’d had a machete too – this job would take half the time. But there was only one between them.

  He nodded at the hollow in the rock. There was still half a metre of dry rock between the end of the platform and the back of the cleft. He took the fire steel from around his neck and passed it to her. ‘Build a fire in there?’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  Brihony set to work while Beck started to put the finishing touches to the shelter. He had the bare bones – it just needed a roof. That would be made of the smaller eucalyptus branches he had cut off – a good pile now.

  By now there was a cold wind warning of the approaching rain. A gust blew in his face. It ruffled his clothes and hair, carrying the smell of damp stone and dust.

  On the side of the shelter nearest the rain, he began to lay leafy branches, propped up against the supports of the A-frame. He laid a complete row from tree to rock face, and tied them on with his dwindling supply of ivy. Then he added a second row, this one on top of the first layer. By the time he was done, that side of the shelter was a solid wall of eucalyptus, strong enough to shelter them from the wind and rain from that direction.

  But the shelter still didn’t have a totally covered roof, so on the downwind side he used the last of the eucalyptus to make as much of a covering as he could. The bottom half of that side was open to the elements, but there was no wind from that direction, and they shouldn’t get too much draught.

  Brihony had lit the fire. She had placed larger branches over the small pile of kapok fibre and kindling, and it was crackling away in its little nook. The wind was blowing it into a good flaming fire. Now she helped pass him branches and lengths of ivy, which made the work go faster. Beck laid the remaining eucalyptus leaves down on the platform as bedding. They would make it a little more comfortable to lie on.

  And then it started to rain. The drops of water were hot and heavy on Beck’s face. They fell onto the ground and stayed there, clinging to the dirt like silvery blobs for a few seconds, before very slowly sinking in.

  ‘Just in time!’ he said with a grin. He indicated that Brihony should climb into the shelter ahead of him. There was just room beneath the roof on the open side to squeeze through onto the platform. Beck pulled his shirt back on, and was immediately grateful for the little extra warmth that it gave, keeping the cold wind off. He reached up and pulled the boxers off his head. It felt a bit like getting home and kicking your shoes off. It meant he had arrived. This was where they were going to stay the night.

  They sat side by side and looked out at a world that was suddenly very, very wet. The rain fell more heavily – and then it was as if someone had unzipped the sky and all the water in existence plummeted down to earth.

  Beck glanced anxiously up at the makeshift thatch. If there were any weak spots, now was the time he would find out. If water could find a way through something, then it always took it. There were drops here and there, but nothing they couldn’t avoid by shifting along a little.

  Beads of rain gathered on the bottom edge of the roof. Within seconds they had turned into miniature streams of water. Beck held the bottle under one until it overflowed, and screwed the top back on.

  ‘Beck . . .’ Brihony said.

  ‘Uh-huh?’

  ‘A couple of hours ago, you made me drink my own pee.’ Beck felt his face go red as she went on, ‘I just want to say thanks. It was so worth it.’

  ‘Uh . . . yeah.’ Beck forced an embarrassed smile. ‘Sorry about that. I drank mine too.’

  ‘That’s the only reason I’m still talking to you.’

  They continued to look out. Their ears were battered by another blast of thunder, right overhead. In the distance, more daggers of lightning struck down at the world – one, two, three at a time.

  ‘I also can’t believe we’re sitting in a tree, in a lightning storm,’ Brihony pointed out.

  Beck grinned. Don’t stand under a tree when there’s lightning about was always good advice.

  ‘Lightning aims for the highest points, and there’s trees higher than this one close by. If it hits anything, it will be them. We’re safe-ish!’

  He leaned forward to peer down at the ground. They were a metre above what had been bone-dry soil. Now, water flowed by beneath them. Beck guessed it was knee deep. He couldn’t quite see how fast it was running, so he plucked a leaf from the roof and dropped it. It hit the water and was swept away in the blink of an eye.

  He watched it flow past the tree. All his work would have been for nothing if that eucalyptus was taken by the flood. But no – it was well rooted in the soil. It had probably stood up to hundreds of floods like this in its lifetime. Just let it pass, the tree was saying. It will go, the waters will recede, and we can all get on with our lives again.

  ‘Safe – I hope,’ he repeated quietly to himself.

  The rain didn’t last long, though the flood did, so they had no choice but to stay put. They emptied their pockets of the last quandongs and pieces of cooked snake. Brihony was nearest to the fire, so she could reheat the meat over the flames on a stick and pass it back to Beck.

  Then they had the astonishing privilege of being able to watch a Kimberley sunset. The rain had washed the air clean, and the sky was a glowing mass of blues and reds and purples.

  ‘I have eaten grubs and I’ve drunk wee,’ Brihony murmured. There was awe in her voice as she looked out at the fluorescent layers of colour in the distance. ‘And this almost makes it worthwhile.’

  Beck knew what she meant.

  But he also knew that they had
been lucky. He should have been on the lookout for a storm like that. Was he getting careless as he grew up?

  He resolved that it would not happen again. Tomorrow they would resume their search and he would be one hundred per cent focused on survival.

  There was one thing he carefully didn’t think about, because there was nothing he could do about it. He looked gloomily out at the rain. Every drop that fell would be wiping out the traces Pindari had left behind. All their searching today would have been for nothing, because tomorrow he would have nothing to follow.

  Chapter 21

  They slept uncomfortably, almost touching on their narrow platform. The leaves only made it slightly more comfortable. It was the kind of night where you weren’t really sure if you’d slept or not.

  Awake the moment the sun poked above the horizon, Beck wasn’t surprised to see that the world on which it shone was now completely dry. The flood had gone. When he got down and felt the ground, it wasn’t even damp.

  He stretched and flexed his back and legs. Then he walked up a small rise, to gaze out over the Outback. The rain had washed the ground clean of dust, and the greens and reds and browns had never been brighter. Yet all Beck felt when he looked out at it was gloom at the thought of their lost trail.

  ‘Why the long face?’ Brihony asked when he came back to the shelter.

  He braced himself, and then told her. ‘The rain will have wiped out the trail. There’s no way we can find Pindari now.’

  Her face froze, and then she blinked and quickly looked away. Was it disappointment that they couldn’t find Pindari and help the Jungun people? Beck wondered. Or anger that they wouldn’t be able to get the people who’d hurt her mother? Or was she just unhappy at the thought of having to walk all the way back again?

  ‘That’s bad,’ she replied.

  ‘Plus, all the marks we made for the guys – they’ll have gone too. Hopefully they’ll have the sense to stay put, and we can make our way back. But don’t worry, we’ll keep on trying to find Pindari. It just won’t be as soon as we’d have liked.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Brihony was trying to put a brave face on it. ‘We should keep our strength up. What’s for breakfast?’

  He gave her a smile. ‘Coming right up. I saw some boabs over there.’

  The boab tree grew a short distance away. It towered high above them, its trunk bulging as if the wood inside was trying to get out. And this one had fruit dangling above his head, looking like leather water bottles: oval and long – almost the length of his forearm and hand together.

  Ridges ran round and round the outside of the trunk, which made handy footholds for Beck to climb up. At the top, the branches forked: an empty stem dangled close by, but the nearest fruit was just out of reach of his fingers. He had to shimmy further along the branch, then pulled off two boab fruits and threw them down to Brihony.

  Back at the shelter, he cut them open with the machete. The inside of the fruit was crammed with seeds embedded in a creamy white pulp. The taste was delicate, a little like chestnuts, and they both tucked in gratefully. With food inside him again, Beck felt stronger, his mind clearer.

  ‘I wonder if Pindari ate from this tree?’ Brihony said, through a mouthful of pulp.

  ‘He could have . . .’

  Then Beck put his piece of fruit down, and stared thoughtfully back at the tree.

  Yes, Pindari could have. It was the only boab tree in the area, and the wily Aboriginal man wouldn’t let a source of food go untouched – would he?

  And then Beck groaned and slapped his head. Brihony looked at him in alarm. He hurried back to the tree, and quickly scampered up it again – and there it was. Earlier, he had noticed the bare stem where a fruit had been. He could see where he had cut off the fruit higher up the branch. Here, the bare wood hadn’t had time to dry and still glistened with sap. The first stump was darker and dryer.

  So where was the fruit that had been attached to it?

  Pindari had eaten here.

  Brihony had reached the base of the tree and was gazing up at him.

  ‘The rain won’t have washed away all the traces!’ he called joyfully. He quickly climbed back down again. ‘He had to eat, didn’t he? He still left a trail!’

  ‘Yeah, OK, but how do we know which way he was going?’ Brihony asked practically. ‘You’ve got to start in some direction.’

  ‘Well, we know that he was heading north-east last night, so—’

  And then another thing hit him. He couldn’t believe it. Two obvious facts had been staring him in the face.

  ‘When we first saw him, he was north-east of us. And last time we had his trail, he was still heading north-east. He’s always been heading north-east. He’s been zigzagging all over the place, turning left, turning right . . . but it all kind of averages out.’

  ‘So . . .’ Brihony said. ‘If we keep on going northeast, and we have a close look at every tree or bush we find with the right kind of fruit and berries, we could still catch him.’

  ‘Yup!’ Beck was almost dancing with excitement, ready to be off.

  ‘And I thought the footprints was hard. This could take for ever . . .’

  ‘But at least we’ll be doing something! Look, we’ll just give it till this evening, right? One more day – and if we haven’t found him by then, we turn back.’ Suddenly it occurred to Beck that maybe Brihony had had enough of the Outback. ‘That is, if you don’t mind another day of walking in boiling temperatures and eating more grubs, and, uh . . .’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, Beck, if it helps the Jungun, and helps get the guys who attacked my mother, I’ll even drink my own wee again. So, put your pants back on your head! Let’s hit the road!’

  It was risky setting off into the Outback again with just a direction to follow, even though Beck knew he could keep them both alive – though not indefinitely. They had a full bottle of water, which wouldn’t last, and no food. They needed a very good reason to keep heading away from civilization – but Beck was pretty certain they had one. They could still find Pindari. And for the sake of the Jungun, and Brihony’s mum, and his own parents, they had to.

  They moved slower than the day before. Beck wanted to look at every plant Pindari might have eaten from, and there were a lot of them. Bit by bit, he began to pick up the new trail. The bush with a stump where there had once been a cluster of berries. The empty husk of a boab fruit. Of course, there was always the risk that these had been eaten by animals, and there was probably plenty of stuff he was missing. But the new trail stuck to the roughly north-easterly direction, and Beck’s heart leaped each time they found a new trace that looked human.

  They ate as they went, the same way Pindari had – little and often. Beck no longer bothered leaving marks for Ganan and Barega to follow. The previous day’s trail would have been washed away, and the men would not have risked coming after them. They would have stayed at the camp.

  Although there was another possibility. As far as Beck remembered, the river curved northward. It was possible that he and Brihony were heading towards it again. He wondered if that would occur to the men – they could take the boat and come to meet them further on.

  Either way, for the time being he would concentrate on tracking Pindari’s eating trail without worrying about the others.

  They came to a shallow, dried-out water hole and found the first sign that they were definitely heading in the right direction.

  The hole was a circle of dry, cracked mud, too deep for the rain to have washed away. There was still a little water left from the night before, though it was thick and scummy – if Beck had needed to drink from it, he would have dug a new hole like the previous day’s.

  A tree grew next to the hole, and someone had made a small hollow in the earth next to it, about thirty centimetres deep. It was too smooth and round to have been created by an animal. This was the work of human hands. Beck squatted and gazed at it as if it was the crown jewels.

  ‘Pindari dug that?’ Brihony asked
.

  ‘Someone did.’ Beck cocked his head back to study the tree. He recognized it as a river red gum. He could just get his arms around the trunk, and it rose to the height of his head before twisting at a sharp angle. Thinner branches grew out of this top half, sprouting grey-green leaves. ‘And I bet I know what he was after too.’

  Beck began to excavate the sides of the hole with the machete, once again keeping it in its sheath to protect the blade. Something was moving in the crumbled pile of dirt. He gave it a poke with the machete, just in case it wasn’t what he was after, but something with teeth or claws or venom. A maggot the size of a fat finger rolled into view. Its body looked like it was made of ten or twelve thick rings stuck together.

  ‘Oh, boy,’ Brihony exclaimed. ‘Witchetty grubs!’

  Beck grinned at the sight. These grubs were probably the most nutritious thing you could eat in the Outback. He had heard that a grown man could live off ten or so a day. He certainly had, before now. They weren’t to unpleasant to eat either – a lot nicer than they looked. They lived on wood, which gave them a particular nutty flavour. This one would have been dining on the roots of the river red gum, so he was doing the tree a favour by removing it.

  They kept digging and unearthed three more.

  ‘So, are we just going to keep these for later too?’ Brihony asked. ‘I just don’t fancy the thought of them wriggling around in my pockets.’

  Beck grinned again. ‘We can eat them now.’

  He held a grub up to his mouth, paused a moment, then popped it in and bit down. It was too big to go in all at once. His teeth sliced down between the hard rings of its body. The contents exploded into his mouth like a mass of old, musty peanut butter. Aboriginals preferred the grubs cooked, when they tasted a bit like fried egg, but this was better than nothing. He chewed and swallowed, and then ate the other half with a grimace.

  Brihony’s jaws were soon working away at her own grub, and the look of distaste on her face was gradually fading. ‘OK . . . That’s still pretty disgusting.’