‘If we say we found the cave, we won’t be allowed to go back. We’ll only talk about the view, and the waterholes we saw on the top of the ridge, okay?’ The others agreed.
The phone rang, and a few moments later Sarah came out of the house. ‘Norrie wants to speak to you, Tess!’
When she came back outside, Tess looked pleased. ‘Norrie and Lazarus want us to come out bush with Vincent this afternoon, and to camp out overnight with them so we can go fishing early in the morning. Aunty Sarah says we can!’ She dropped down beside the others and picked up her greasing rag.
‘Tess, how are you going to explain being a vegetarian to Vincent?’ asked George with an evil grin.
‘Yeah, and how can you bear to kill little fishies?’ needled Darcy.
Tess looked askance, and flushed. ‘Well, I’m not going to fish myself – just because I don’t think we should kill animals to eat doesn’t mean you can’t. And I don’t know what Vincent will think, but I’ll bet he’s nicer about it than you lot are!’
They went inside for lunch, and found the dining room table covered in paperwork, with Mac and Sarah murmuring to each other and looking very unhappy. They went into the kitchen and made themselves sandwiches. George took mugs of tea to his parents, and came back in a few minutes looking puzzled.
‘Sam, what’s a Final Notice?’
‘I dunno – why?’
‘I saw this letter from the bank on the table, and it had “Final Notice” across the top of it. Mum and Dad seem really upset, too.’
‘We got one of them once when Mum forgot to pay the electricity bill, and they were going to cut off our power,’ said Darcy.
‘But what kind of bills do banks send?’ wondered Sam. It must have something to do with his parents looking so distracted lately.
Norrie and Lazarus arrived with Vincent in the Landcruiser ute after lunch, and they all piled in the back on top of their swags. They headed back out to the highway via Vincent’s camp, where they picked up his wife Jamerrie, and a couple more dogs. Vincent and his family owned a large area of land that shared a boundary with the McAllisters’ place, and included a sizable piece of Arnhem Land as well. When Mac had asked Vincent years before about the traditional owners of Brumby Plains, the old man had shaken his head and said gruffly, ‘All gone, long time. They bin all finish one time, long long time ago.’
He would say no more than that. But Mac understood that Vincent’s people held some kind of stewardship over his land, and he allowed them to travel across the property when they wished. From time to time many of the young men worked for Mac, mustering, tagging, drafting the buffalo in the yards and helping out with fencing and other hard work.
At the highway they turned east and travelled over the bridge that spanned Crocodile Creek where it squeezed through the narrow gap between the Arm and the Escarpment. Further on they turned north again, running roughly parallel to the hulking shape of the Arm, which now lay to the west of them. They were heading for a special billabong that Vincent knew was reliable for a feed of barramundi and mussels, and where the water was good.
They spent the afternoon digging for sand frogs in the dry creek bed that ran into the waterhole, and tossing baited hooks into the water on heavy duty handlines. Tess didn’t want to take part in the fishing, and went off with Norrie and old Jamerrie and her dogs to look for goannas and yams. They returned a couple of hours later with a bag full of tubers and two good sized goannas which the old woman baked in the coals of the fire while the barramundi Vincent had caught roasted nearby, wrapped in paperbark.
Later that night as they sat around the fire, Vincent told them stories about the legends of his country. He told them how the Escarpment was created by the movements of the rainbow snake as it journeyed across the land in the Dreamtime. He told them how the curlews who called at night were the spirits of people long dead, wandering the country, and how they protected certain places.
When he paused to drink some tea, Tess piped up: ‘Vincent, when we were in Riverton a few months ago, we saw some corroborees there, people painted up and dancing. It was really good.’
‘Ah, that just rubbish dancing, for tourist. Not proper story.’
‘Do you ever do the proper dances at your place?’ she asked.
Vincent frowned. He drank a lot more of his tea before he answered her. ‘No, we can’t have that proper ceremony here, not anymore.’ With that he hustled them off to bed, promising good fishing in the morning.
They had been asleep for several hours when Sam was woken by a loud droning noise. He had been dreaming he was being chased by a swarm of feral bees, knee deep in thick honey, unable to escape the cloud that was closing in on him. As he struggled up out of sleep, he realised there was a sound swooping in from the north, coming in low and getting louder all the time. He half sat up in his swag and a light plane, all its running lights extinguished, soared low over the little camp. The fire had died right down and the blackness was nearly complete, but as he followed the plane’s track inland, he became conscious of a figure sitting beside the embers. Vincent sat as if carved in stone, but his voice came softly to Sam: ‘Hey, my boy – you ’wake, eh?’
Sam crawled out of his swag and moved quietly over to the fire. He dropped to the sand beside the old man, who blew on the embers and threw in a handful of sticks to liven the fire up a little. A billy can was steaming in the middle of the coals. Vincent stirred it with a stick and lifted it off. He poured two pannikins of sweet black tea and silently handed one to Sam.
They sipped the tea for a few moments, then Sam asked, ‘What was that plane, Vincent?’
‘I don’t know, young fella. Bit strange, flying in like that with no light. He landed somewhere close up, too.’
‘What, in the bush?’
‘Lot of old airstrip all about. Probably landing on one of those. Better we tell ol’ Mac about it when we go back.’ He was silent for a minute, and then said quietly, ‘Lotta strange thing in this country. People wandering about, shouldn’t be there. I see the track. I know where they travelling.’
Sam was stricken with sudden guilt. He was glad the dark hid the fierce blush that suffused his face, and he bit his lip.
‘They looking for something, this mob, but they going in a dangerous place. Lot of spirit people there, not quiet. Angry one. I see one, when you mob gone to town, one old spirit man walking. That mean someone been bothering their place, been doing a bad thing there. Something real bad could happen to blackfella if those old people get stirred up.’ He swirled the tea around in his mug and looked out into the darkness.
Sam puzzled over his last words: … when you mob gone to town … That was well before their visit to the cave. Vincent must mean someone else. But even as the relief rushed in, Vincent spoke again, not looking at Sam.
‘Some people better be careful where they go. They don’t know what story they bin muck around with. Some dangerous places in this country.’ The old man drained his pannikin, and set it down by the fire.
‘Go on, my boy, you sleep now. We’ll let ol’ Mac know ’bout that plane in the morning.’
A few miles away, hidden by the black night, three men loaded some long shapes aboard a small plane. Kerosene lanterns glowed brightly along the sides of a rough, overgrown bush airstrip to mark it out for the pilot to land. Wheel tracks were visible where the waiting men had driven up and down it to flatten the grass and make sure there were no hidden logs or holes. They spoke in low tones, even though they were confident there were no observers around, but the night and the nature of their work encouraged secrecy and they kept noise to a minimum.
Presently their job was done. The pilot handed over some paperwork and climbed aboard, starting up the engine. The other two men retreated to a safe distance and watched as the plane ascended into the black sky and turned its nose north, from where it had come. As soon as it was well clear of the strip, they collected the lanterns, extinguishing each one, and loaded them into the vehicle along wi
th the boxes they had taken from the plane.
Vincent lifted his old head as he heard the plane drone overhead a second time, and he watched impassively until the sound was lost among the stars.
In the morning, they woke early and rolled their swags. While Jamerrie heaped coals and hot ashes over the damper she had prepared, they trailed off to the billabong to fetch some water to make tea.
‘Old Vincent and I heard a plane go over last night. Really low, with no lights. And he reckons it landed close by on one of the old bush airstrips,’ Sam said as they walked through the dewy grass.
‘Who do you suppose would be landing at night like that?’ asked Tess.
‘Maybe it was drug runners!’ exclaimed George. ‘We should go and check it out. Hey, there’s probably big rewards for catching druggies!’
‘Yeah, I think they’re called bullets. No way am I going near anything like that,’ said Sam. ‘Those kinds of guys would be really desperate. Uh-uh.’ He shook his head.
‘Maybe it was someone in trouble, you know, their engine not working properly or something and they had to land real fast,’ said Norrie.
Lazarus disagreed. ‘How you gunna see an airstrip in the dark like that, with no lights or nothing? I reckon George is right. Must be some bad fellas.’
‘Well, whatever it was, we wouldn’t know where to look anyway. Don’t you just tell the coast guard or someone about things like that?’ asked Tess.
‘Coastwatch. It’s called Coastwatch. Yeah, that’s what you do. Old Vincent said we’d tell Dad about it. I guess he’ll call the Coastwatch people.’
By the time the billy had boiled and the tea was made, the damper was ready. Jamerrie lifted it out of the coals on a shovel, and dusted off the ashes. The crust was golden and crisp, and the inside white and steaming. She cut it into thick slices and handed them round.
‘Golden syrup there, jam too,’ she pointed, accepting a pannikin of tea from Norrie. Everyone concentrated on drizzling sticky sweet syrup over hot damper.
‘Where’s Old Vincent, Jamerrie?’ asked Tess. She noticed the old man was missing, and the Toyota was gone too.
‘Oh, he bin go look up that way. He’s lookin for that plane he bin hear last night. He’ll be back bye’n bye.’
‘I hope he’s okay. He should have taken us with him.’ George was concerned, but Sam shook his head.
‘If anyone was there last night, they won’t be waiting around this morning for someone to come looking for them. Vincent’ll probably look for tracks, I guess, and see where they landed.’
‘Well, he prob’ly won’t be back for a while, so let’s go see if we can catch that fish we heard in the lagoon before. I reckon he’s a big fella!’ Lazarus grinned at the others, and picked up a handline.
They fished enthusiastically for half an hour with no bites, apart from the ones they got from the mosquitoes. Sam had been thinking over the events of the night before, and the things Vincent had said to him.
He looked up at Norrie. ‘Do you believe all that stuff Vincent was saying about spirits last night?’
Norrie frowned, and looked a bit uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know about that stuff. Them old people believe a lot of stories about the Dreamtime, and ghost and spirit. Might be all just a story, you know, like the Bible story that minister from Jabiru talks about. But I know I’m properly scared to go inside that cave you fellas went in!’ And she grinned at the same time as looking suitably frightened.
Sam shot a look at Tess. ‘Did you talk about the cave, Tess? You promised!’
She looked embarrassed, but answered him defiantly. ‘Well, it’s practically in Norrie’s country anyway, and I thought she might know something about all those paintings we saw. I told her not to say anything to Old Vincent and Jamerrie. Lazarus too.’
Sam looked at Norrie and Lazarus.
‘I don’t think there’s anything to be scared of there,’ he said. ‘Ghosts can’t hurt you. And those paintings were really interesting. We didn’t see all of the cave because George dropped the torch when a little bat scared him.’
‘Yeah, ten thousand little bats, you mean. Anyway, we’re going to go back there again soon. Do you want to come with us? You can stay over at our place so we can get up early in the morning and go from there. Sam’s allowed to drive the old Landcruiser.’
‘Yeah, come on, guys, it’d be great if you came too! It’s a top place. You have to climb into the cave down a banyan tree root and then it’s really big inside. We could make it a hiding spot that only we know about,’ Darcy joined in.
Norrie and Lazarus looked worried. ‘We can’t,’ said Norrie. ‘Ol’ Vincent would skin us if he knew we went there. It’s a bad place for blackfellas. I reckon that spirit fella might be really there, too.’
They were silent a moment, then Tess spoke up. ‘What did Vincent mean last night, when he said you couldn’t have proper ceremonies at your place anymore?’
Norrie glanced at Lazarus, and he said, ‘It’s secret men’s business. I only know that something really important got lost or stolen a long, long time ago. Without it the men can’t have proper ceremony business. It makes them old people real sad.’
They all sat there not knowing what to say, until Darcy yelled out, ‘Hey, I’ve got a bite!’ and jumped up from the bank to haul in his fishing line.
‘Keep the pressure on him, Darce! Don’t let him spit the –!’
Lazarus’s words were abruptly cut off by a huge silver explosion in the billabong. The limpid green water was churned into a froth by an enormous barramundi that leapt out of the pool twisting and arching in an effort to rid itself of the hook embedded in its mouth.
‘Wow, it’s a beauty!’ shouted Sam.
Darcy hauled back on the fish. It leapt and splashed mightily into the billabong several more times before it tired itself out and he was able to pull it in. Lazarus and George waded into the water to help drag the fish through the weeds, and then it was on the mud at their feet, a whole metre long, its shining silver scales tinged with green from the fresh water.
‘Wow, what a monster,’ sighed Darcy.
‘That’s the biggest fish I’ve ever seen! Wait till Dad sees this!’ George was almost overcome with excitement.
Vincent and Jamerrie came up to them, their attention attracted by the shouting voices.
‘Hey, young fella! Some fisherman, this boy!’ Vincent beamed at Darcy and bent to lift the fish up by its open mouth.
‘That’s a good barra, my boy! Your dad gunna be real proud of you. We better get this one back home quick before he goes bad. You get your aunty to take a photo for you, eh? Come on now, we better clean this old fish …’
They brought a hessian sack down to the billabong and soaked it thoroughly before wrapping the fish in it after it was gutted. Evaporation would keep the fish cool until they got back to the homestead.
As they packed up the camp, Sam said to Vincent, ‘What did you see? Did you find the airstrip?’
‘Yeah, I found it. No one there now, just some track in the long grass, where somebody bin drive up and down so that plane could land. Dunno what they doing there, in the bush like that. Bit strange, eh?’
‘We better tell Dad. He’ll know what to do.’
‘Yeah, ol’ Mac will know. Well, come on, you mob! Let’s get this fish of Darcy’s home before the hawks find us!’ And with that he shepherded them all into the back of the Toyota and they drove off.
Back at the homestead, the barramundi was duly exclaimed over and photographed, and half of it given to Vincent and his family to take home. After they had unpacked, they wandered down to the horse paddock to plan the next day’s activities.
‘We’re going back to the cave, aren’t we?’ asked George.
‘Yeah, but I don’t think we should just yet. Dad’ll think it’s a bit strange if we keep going to the same place, don’t you reckon?’ Sam was feeling uneasy about going back to the cave after his conversation with Vincent the previous night, but he d
idn’t think he could explain it to the others. ‘Why don’t we take the horses out to the lake instead? We could go to the cave again in a few days, maybe.’
‘Cool!’ Darcy was itching to show Sam just how good a rider he really was.
‘Let’s do that!’ Tess agreed.
George, who would have much preferred a drive in a car to a horse-ride any day, was outvoted and so resigned himself to tagging along with the others.
Sam went searching for his father, who had gone back inside the house, and found him in the office. Mac was staring out of the window, head in his hands, a stack of papers under his elbows.
‘You okay, Dad?’ he asked hesitantly.
Mac started and stared at Sam. ‘Yeah, yeah, fine. Just thinking about this paperwork, that’s all. So what’s the story about the plane last night? You heard it too, Old Vincent said.’
‘Yeah, it was really weird. No lights or anything. I only heard it come in, but Vincent heard it go again. Must’ve been after I went back to sleep. What do you reckon it is?’
‘I don’t know, but it can’t be legal, that’s for sure. I’ll let the Coastwatch people know about it, but there’s not much they can do, I’d reckon. Lots of planes sneak across the coast at night like that, and the patrols can’t be everywhere at once. Could be drugs, illegal immigrants maybe.’ Mac looked up a number in the directory and picked up the phone. Sam waited as his father spoke to someone in Darwin, and then asked him another question when he put the phone down again.
‘Can we go riding tomorrow? Tess and Darcy really want to go out for a long ride, and if we go early while it’s cool, we can stop in the middle of the day and come back in the late afternoon.’
‘Yeah, I don’t see why not. Where do you want to go?’
‘Up to Goose Lake. We can take food and stuff in our backpacks, and there’s still plenty of water in the lake for the horses.’
‘Okay. You organise it, but make sure the horses don’t get knocked up. No galloping in this weather, just easy walking. And make sure the saddles come off when you stop at the lake.’
Brumby Plains Page 5