“Oh no! Victor!” Kylie cried. She began to pull at the branches and pieces of wreckage. The wind snatched at things and she was struck hard on the arm and something whipped her face, making it go numb. To her great relief Graham and Margaret both emerged from the tangle of leaves and branches. “Bert! Allie!” Kylie screamed.
A cry of distress answered her. Kylie tore at the wreckage and branches frantically, heedless of the rain lashing her. She found Uncle Bill beside her.
“Bert and Allie are just under here,” she yelled.
Uncle Bill nodded and directed the boys to help. Without lights it was very hard as the lightening flashes were infrequent and left them temporarily night blind. Kylie’s groping hand encountered someone. To her relief the person’s hand grabbed hers. They were alive! It was Allison and she was soon pulled clear.
“Bert! Bert!” she screamed hysterically.
“I’m alright,” Bert yelled from under the leaves and iron. “Help me get Vic clear.”
Uncle Bill grouped them to clear the debris. They dragged away small branches, getting scratched and whipped in the process as the branches were flailing around in the wind. Kylie saw Graham and Peter both wrestle with larger branches and snap them off. She found it hard to see and even harder to think as the rain and wind battered her.
It took ten minutes to get Victor clear. The trunk of the tree had crashed across the tent and landed on his legs. Only the thick lower branches had saved him from being crushed. The branches had splintered and snapped but in doing so had stopped the massive trunk from smashing hard into the tent.
As she helped to drag the unconscious Victor clear another horrible thought came to Kylie. ‘The Old Prospector! Where is he?’ She bent and crawled into the leaves and under the remains of the tent. She found herself crawling in slush and cold mud. Her hands touched clothing and flesh.
“He’s here!” she yelled. With trembling hands she felt along his body, fearing the worst. This was rapidly confirmed. The tree had landed on the Old Prospector. When she felt the rough bark pressing down on the man’s stomach and chest Kylie let out a sob of anguish. ‘Oh no! He’s been crushed!’
“Is he alive?” Graham shouted from near her.
Kylie crawled further under and pressed her finger tips to the Old Prospector’s throat. For a moment she could feel nothing but then she detected a faint pulse.
“Yes, but he’s trapped,” Kylie yelled. She felt around and realized that the old man had mud and water cascading around his head and shoulders. ‘He will drown,’ she thought anxiously.
The others worked with urgent haste to clear the leaves and branches from around them. Kylie carefully felt the Old Prospector’s head and neck and decided that he was not injured there. To save him from the mud and water she gently raised his head and slipped her left forearm under it. With her other hand she began scooping a ditch to divert the surface flow.
When they had cleared the wreckage and rubbish away they found that the Old Prospector was solidly trapped beneath the log. His lower chest, stomach and upper legs were under the trunk. Uncle Bill leaned down and checked the Old Prospector’s breathing and airway. Kylie could just detect movement in the old man’s chest and she heard him snuffle and groan a few times.
“We must get him out,” Uncle Bill said. “I think his ribs may be broken and if he is bleeding into his lungs he will drown in his own blood unless we can turn him over.”
What a ghastly thought! Kylie felt even worse. She felt so helpless and very scared. The storm seemed to be getting worse and she realized she was shivering with cold. ‘If I’m cold then the Old Prospector must be freezing. We must get him free!’ she thought.
But how? Graham asked the same question. “We can’t lift this tree, that is for sure,” he shouted above the wind.
“Dig him out. Come on, dig like crazy,” Uncle Bill yelled.
That set them all to work, digging with whatever was to hand, mostly with bare hands. Kylie was directed to keep holding the Old Prospector’s head up as they dug because the holes instantly filled with water. She knew she was shaking but somehow she concentrated on her task, even though her muscles began to cramp and she felt her left arm go numb.
In fact, by the time they had dug right under the log on both sides of the Old Prospector she felt numb in mind and body from the ceaseless battering of the wind. She began to doubt if she could last and continually prayed for the strength to carry on.
It took what seemed for ever, but was actually took about an hour (so Peter later told her), to dig away enough mud to free the old man. He was then slid out and Roger and Stephen set to work by the light of pocket torches taken from their webbing to examine his injuries.
“He’s in a bad way,” Roger said. “I think he has broken both thighs and he definitely has internal injuries.”
“We’d better get him into some sort of shelter or he will die of exposure and shock,” Stephen added.
Shelter! But where? They cast around for ideas and finally decided that the wrecked shelter was still their best option. Stephen suggested the mine tunnel but a flash of lightning showed that it was mostly collapsed and was flooded, the small pump underwater.
It took time to clear a space in what was left of the shelter. Only one canvas wall and part of one sheet iron wall remained and they did not really block the driving rain. Canvas and the remains of the tent were tied and stretched taut to make some sort of a roof and the two injured men were moved into the shelter. The others then huddled into what cover they could find.
Exhaustion began to tell on Kylie. She found herself shivering and dizzy. She snuggled into some wet bedding along with Peter and Roger and they clung to each other. The strike of a lightening bolt close to them made them all cry out in fear and clutch at each other. The sound of another tree crashing down added to their terror. The whole experience became a living nightmare.
Through it all Kylie worried. She could not stop thinking about Victor and the Old Prospector. Even thoughts of the two horrible men gave her pause for pity. Their ordeal, clinging to a rock in mid-river, surrounded by the raging floodwaters and flailed by the elements must be truly horrific. ‘Perhaps they have been washed away by now?’ she wondered in a sick daze.
The storm went on and on, hour after hour. Rain and wind, wind and rain. It buffeted and battered at her until her senses went numb and her body felt like on huge soggy bruise. From time to time Bert or Uncle Bill would check the two injured men but it was obvious that nothing more could be done in the dark.
“They both need proper medical treatment urgently or they will die,” was Roger’s gloomy prognosis.
CHAPTER 30
WE MUST TRY!
At some point in time Kylie became aware that she could see more than just the dim black outlines of those around her. With growing relief she realized that it was starting to get light. A check of her watch showed it was nearly 6am. She realized that it was darker than it would normally be at that time because of the clouds and rain. The storm continued unabated. She could only marvel in numbed shock that anything could go on so long, so fiercely.
With an effort she wiped rain from her face and looked around. She met the vacant and haggard looks of Roger and Allison. Allison looked absolutely stunned. Kylie could never remember feeling so exhausted and wrung out in all her life. She found it was an effort to even think, much less do anything.
But someone was moving. It was Bert. He sat up from checking Victor. Kylie could not see Victor because he was under the rough shelter. “How is he?” she managed to croak. She was amazed to find that her throat felt dry and all choked up. ‘In all this rain!’
Bert looked awful. His eyes were sunk into his face which was grey and lined. His hair was plastered all over his head by mud and rain. ‘I suppose I look the same,’ Kylie thought.
“He’s still alive,” Bert called, “but he’s having difficulty breathing. We must get him to a doctor.”
“And the Old Prospector,�
� Kylie added. “How is he?”
“Haven’t checked,” Bert admitted.
While they talked some of the others began to stir. Kylie tried to sit up and found that all her muscles were stiff. She felt so numb she could barely move. It took a real effort even to lift an arm to wipe her face. With a groan she got to her knees and crawled across to the shelter. In the process she bumped Graham and Roger who both stirred. As she passed she met Peter’s eyes. He lay in the wreckage looking utterly exhausted.
Kylie crawled in under the remains of the tent with Bert to check the Old Prospector. To her relief he was still breathing, but it was in rapid, short pants which she thought indicated pains in the chest. Victor, on the other hand, was breathing with a harsh snoring sound which she found even more worrying. ‘Serious head injury?’ she wondered. Both casualties looked ghastly in the grey light.
When she emerged from the tent Kylie found the others all sitting up and moving slowly. It had been a relief to be in under the canvas for even a couple of minutes as the wind and rain were still slashing at them with icy fingers.
“How are they?” Uncle Bill asked.
“Alive, but they need a doctor and proper treatment fast,” Kylie replied. She shivered and put her arms around herself.
“I don’t think there is much we can do while this cyclone lasts,” Uncle Bill replied.
“Oh we must! We must try!” Kylie cried. She was sickened by the thought of the two men slowly dying. She knew she had to do something, if only for the sake of her own conscience and sanity.
“It has rained all night,” Peter said. “The river will be still in flood. We can’t get out.”
Graham had stretched himself, waking Margaret in the process. He suddenly stood up. “The river! I wonder if those crooks are still there?”
“Let’s have a look,” Peter suggested.
“I think you kids should stay under cover,” Uncle Bill said. “We don’t want any more accidents.” He indicated the driving rain and the trees, which were still whipping and flailing in the wind which still howled and raged around them.
Graham shrugged as he stood up. “Can’t be worse than here. This isn’t much of a shelter.”
Uncle Bill looked around and nodded. “You are right. Let’s try to rig up something better now we can see.”
Graham persisted in his plan. “In a minute. I will just check the river. We have to know if we can cross or not.” He pulled the sodden sleeping bag around Margaret then turned and picked his way through the wreckage.
As Graham started walking Peter stood up and followed him. Kylie was seized by an urgent need to know what had become the men. Had they been washed away in the night? She also stood up and sloshed down the track after the boys. Uncle Bill said not to go but she ignored him.
Once in the jungle the wind was much less but the rain still dribbled and gushed down everything. The track was covered with loose branches and leaves and there was a tree across it but they climbed over this without any trouble and made their way on down the slope. It was at once obvious that the river was even higher. They could hear the roar of the water above the howl of the wind. The floodwaters were even further up into the forest than before.
Graham just waded in. Kylie was so wet she didn’t hesitate and followed, only to get a shock. The water was icy cold and took her breath away. But having started she wasn’t going to turn back. The trio made their way from tree to tree into deeper and deeper water. It was still quite gloomy in the rainforest.
Graham stopped and pointed, then continued on. Kylie looked and let out a gasp. A huge python at least five metres long was coiled up a tree which was leaning over at an angle.
“Been driven out of his hiding place by the floodwaters,” Peter commented. The boys just ignored the huge snake and went on wading. Kylie edged past the great reptile and followed.
Five minutes later they were at a place where they could see out onto the river. In the grey half-light it looked fearsome, a surging mass of white streaked water. Logs and leaves racing past gave the sense of its speed and power.
“They are still there,” Graham called. “Or at least one of them is.”
Kylie moved to join him. She could just see a dark shape huddled on the very top of a large boulder. Only a metre of the rock was still above the level of the racing floodwaters.
“They are both there,” Peter added.
A black blob which was the other man’s head, was just visible on the other side of the rock.
“If that river comes up much more then those two are goners,” Graham commented.
The idea made Kylie feel sick. She had never experienced a situation where she could witness another person’s death and it was not something she wanted to do. She shivered violently.
“Let’s go back and do something,” she said.
They made their way back to the clearing. On arrival they found Uncle Bill huddled under cover with his radio held to his ear.
“Any news?” Graham called.
Uncle Bill held up his hand for silence and they waited till he put the radio down and said: “According to the latest reports the cyclone is now about one hundred kilometres North East of Cairns and moving south at about ten kilometres per hour. It is east of Cape Tribulation. Worse still it is now a Category Four cyclone.”
“You mean it hasn’t arrived yet?” Allison asked incredulously.
Uncle Bill nodded. “That’s right. At the rate it is moving it will be another ten hours before it gets here, if it comes this way.”
“Ten hours!” Allison cried. “I can’t stand another ten hours of this!”
“It will be more than ten,” Graham said. “Once it arrives it takes just as long to leave.”
Kylie did the calculation in her head. It was just after seven. That meant that the cyclone could arrive at around five that afternoon and would not be over until the next morning. She was appalled. “That means nearly another twenty four hours! Another night like that! Victor and the Old Prospector won’t last that long. They must get medical treatment,” she cried.
Uncle Bill shrugged and looked defeated. Allison began to sob. Bert moved to put his arms around her. Kylie became very agitated. “We must do something!”
“What can we do? We can’t possibly cross the river,” Stephen said.
“Can’t we go down along this bank until we come to the road?” Kylie queried. She remembered that the road in to Kearneys Flats crossed several bridges but wasn’t sure of the layout. She just felt impelled to do something.
Graham bit his lip and dug into his map pocket. “I think there are a few big creeks to cross. They will be flooded too,” he said. He took out his map, still luckily dry in its plastic bag. For a minute he studied it, continually brushing rain drops off the plastic. Peter moved over to look as well.
Graham frowned and then said: “We might be able to go the other way, but there is no road.”
Kylie felt a surge of hope. “What do you mean by the other way?”
Graham held the map for her to see. “Up the mountain and along this ridge back to Lamins Hill.”
“To the farm?” Kylie asked, her heart fluttering with hope.
Graham nodded. “There is a ridge which runs all the way back from here to Lamins Hill. It doesn’t have any creeks across it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Uncle Bill snapped. “Nobody could get up over these mountains. It’s impossible!”
“I don’t see why,” Graham replied. “During the gold rushes the main track from Goldsborough to the Tablelands ran along that ridge. I marked it on my map.”
“Show me,” Kylie said. She moved over and wiped rain from her face to peer at the map.
Uncle Bill shook his head. “That was donkey’s years ago. The track would be all overgrown by now.”
“It won’t be any worse than the tracks we have been exploring during the last week or so,” Graham replied.
“But it would take days,” Uncle Bill said.
�
��No it wouldn’t,” Graham replied.
Kylie agreed. “I read in Grandad Hector’s diary that he walked from down here to the farm.”
Peter said: “That’s right. I’ve got it here.” He took out the photocopy in its plastic bag and read it. “It took him two days though. He spent the night on the track.”
Kylie took the diary copy to read, then said: “But he was so sick he died the next day.”
“That’s right,” Graham agreed. “We can do better than that. We’ve climbed mountains that big in one day on hikes.”
“How far is it?” Kylie asked.
Graham bent to his map and quickly did the calculation. “About fourteen kilometres. And about seven hundred metres up. That should take us about... er... about.... nine or ten hours at most, even if we have to cut our way through the jungle.”
“It will take longer than that,” Uncle Bill said. “How far is it around along the ridges?”
“That is the actual distance,” Graham replied. “It is only ten kilometres in a straight line.”
“You’d never do it,” Uncle Bill said. “You’d end up getting lost in the jungle.”
Kylie glanced at Graham’s face and noted a stubborn look she knew well. He looked angry. “Whatever else happens we won’t get lost!” he snapped back. “We are very good navigators.”
Uncle Bill looked distressed. “But you can’t walk through the jungle in a cyclone!”
“It can’t be any worse than sitting here,” Kylie replied.
Margaret now spoke. “I’d rather be up and walking instead of sitting here freezing to death.”
Kylie glanced at her and saw she was shivering and looked blue in the face. She felt frozen herself. As well Margaret's simile of ‘freezing to death’ made her sickeningly aware of what must be happening to Victor and the Old Prospector. She said: “We have to try. We can’t just sit here and let Victor and the Old Prospector die.”
The Publicity Push Page 30