“Aw Dad! I’m OK,” Willy said. He didn’t want a needle. But the cuts did sting. He saw Marjorie’s concerned face. Always Marjorie! Blast Marjorie! Why couldn’t it be Barbara? He made a face and took hold of the mooring rope and helped tow the airship.
Back at the tractor they examined the damage.
“Not too bad. Only some torn netting and two punctured balloons,” Willy’s father observed. They soon sewed up the netting and replaced the balloons. When that was done Willy’s father said: “OK, that is enough for this morning.”
“Aw Dad! We were just getting used to her. Just one more go please,” Willy asked.
“No. The wind is increasing and the air is heating up. We will do some more flying this afternoon if the wind drops,” his father replied.
“Aw Dad! What about Noddy? He didn’t get a go, and nor did you.”
“I know. He can have a second go later and so can I. Now, tie the mooring rope firmly to the tractor frame and go back to the house.”
An hour later Willy lay on his stretcher. He had showered and had his cuts doctored. It was only 10am and he felt quite deflated. How could he wait till the afternoon? And what if the wind didn’t drop? ‘It could get stronger,’ he concluded gloomily.
The morning dragged by. Lunch time came and went. The wind rose to such an extent that Willy feared the airship might be damaged. He and Stick walked down to the shed and checked all the lashings. On their return to the house Stephen looked up from the book he was reading and asked: “What’ll we do now? I’m bored.”
“What about a swim?” Marjorie suggested.
“Nah! Too cold,” Stick replied.
“Go for a walk?” Willy said.
“No. Too physical,” Stephen answered. “Besides, where would we go?”
“Down the creek,” Willy replied, but as soon as he said it he had no desire to go there. He looked out at the mountains and noted the blue-grey mass of Lambs Head. “I wonder how your mates are going with their hike. Do you reckon they would be up at that rock yet?”
“No. Not yet. Roger will be holding them back, the fat little slug,” Stephen replied.
“Oh don’t be horrible!” Shona cried. “Roger is a nice boy.”
“You can have him then,” Stephen sneered.
“What about football,” Noddy suggested.
“No, cricket,” Stick countered.
They bickered for a while but could not agree. This left them sitting around the veranda. Stephen and Noddy began a game of cards. Stick went off with Willy’s father to change the oil in a tractor. The girls vanished into their room. Willy was left sitting alone. He didn’t mind. He dug out a novel and lay back to read. After a while he dozed off and fell into a heavy sleep. He was roused from this by Marjorie who dribbled cold water on him. He sat up, feeling flushed and groggy.
“Where are the others?” he asked.
“Shona has gone for a walk down the creek with Stephen and Noddy,” Marjorie replied.
“Lucky girl! Why didn’t you go?”
“I wanted to be with you. Come and have afternoon tea,” Marjorie answered.
Willy followed her to the side veranda. His mother and father, Aunty Isabel and Stick were already there. They sat and talked over tea and scones. The weather had warmed up, making Willy feel listless and drowsy.
“Funny weather,” he commented.
“At least the wind has died down,” Stick observed. “We should get a few more flights this afternoon when it cools down a bit.”
“We need to be careful,” Willy’s father cautioned. “There have been some quite strong gusts over the last hour or so. There is always tomorrow morning.”
“There is a change due tomorrow according to the weather man,” Aunty Isabel commented. “A frontal system which could bring thunderstorms and rain.”
“We could do with the rain,” Willy’s father said, indicating the already parched grass. This led to a discussion by the adults on rain and farming. Willy and Stick took themselves off to the back veranda.
While they sat talking Willy had his attention drawn to a noise down along the creek. He saw that the tree tops were shaking and that leaves and dust were being flung high into the air.
“Bloody strong gust of wind that,” Stick observed.
“Yes. It must be funnelled along the creek by those hills,” Willy replied.
The gust was gone in a few minutes, leaving a sun-drenched stillness in which they could hear the buzzing of flies and the cawing of distant crows. Willy sat and daydreamed. His gaze wandered out over the jungle clad ridges to the east. The line of the powerline coming from Cairns caught his eye where it passed over the lowest part of the range. It did not look much higher than where they were at present. A wonderful new idea soared into Willy’s imagination. ‘If I could fly my airship along the powerline and over the crest of the coastal range I could land it at school,’ he thought. He pictured this:- the whole school on morning assembly so he had the maximum audience- and of course Barbara. That would impress her!
His mind dwelt on this happy concept and embroidered it. He would be the hero of the school. He pictured her adoring gaze and saw her saying yes, she would love to go out with him.
Willy gave a wry grin. Barbara might be impressed but the police wouldn’t be; or the Civil Aviation people. He would have to fly into controlled airspace and they wouldn’t be amused at having to divert Jumbo jets to avoid him.
‘Oh well! It is nice to dream,’ he told himself.
Time passed. Marjorie stretched herself out on the floor so that he could not help but see her. Stick read a comic. Shona appeared and sat on the steps.
“Where are Stephen and Noddy?” Stick asked.
“Having a swim,” Shona replied.
“So? Didn’t you want one?” Marjorie asked.
“They aren’t wearing any clothes,” Shona replied. She blushed bright pink.
“You could have gone in with them, they wouldn’t have minded,” Marjorie said.
Shona shook her head. “Not me. Anyway, they were being gross, so I left,” she replied.
“Did you see them?” Marjorie asked with a giggle.
Shona blushed again and shook her head. “I didn’t wait,” she explained. Willy thought she was wise. He could just imagine how Stephen would have acted.
They sat and talked for a while, then began a game of draughts. Willy wasn’t really interested but played because he was bored. He kept glancing at his watch and looking at the weather. This alternated between short, sharp gusts of wind and hot, still periods. There was still not a cloud in the sky.
5pm crept by at last.
“Only an hour to dark. Let’s go and have some flights on the airship,” he said.
“Better ask your parents,” Marjorie suggested.
“I will, just a moment,” Willy said. He rose and walked through to where the adults still sat talking and reading. “Dad, can we have some more flights please?” he asked.
His father nodded. “Alright. I will come down. You get the airship ready. We will fly at low altitude and we must keep an eye out for wind gusts,” he answered.
Willy didn’t wait. He raced back and called to the others, “Come on, let’s go.”
“Get a jumper Willy,” Marjorie called, holding one up. Willy hesitated then took it. The temperature had begun to drop rapidly with the sun. As he walked he hauled the pullover on. The others followed. He rounded the shed - and stopped dead.
The airship was gone!
For a moment Willy could not believe his eyes. He looked wildly around.
“There it is!” Stick cried.
Right down at the far end of the field the airship was creeping along. Noddy was pedalling it and Stephen walked along holding the mooring rope. Willy felt a surge of anger. It was his airship and they had taken it without his permission.
The airship turned slowly and headed their way. They began walking towards it.
“At least Noddy finally had the guts to get
on,” Stick commented.
They walked slowly to meet the airship as Noddy laboriously pedalled their way. Willy was consumed by worry. He wiped perspiration from his palms and chewed his fingernails.
The visual cue came first. Willy realized that the airship was not moving, yet Noddy could be clearly seen pedalling furiously. It was the realization of wind blowing on the back of his neck which changed Willy’s vague worry to alarm. At the moment when Stephen could be seen digging his heels in and taking the strain on the mooring rope Willy began to run.
The airship was a hundred metres away. Willy raced across the dusty paddock, calling out but unaware of it. The airship gave the impression of never getting any closer and Willy saw that Stephen was being dragged along, stumbling and stirring up the dust.
“Hang on Steve, I’m coming!” Willy shouted.
Stephen tried but was jerked off his feet. He fell to his knees and was then thrown on his back and dragged along as the strength of the wind increased. Stephen managed to regain his feet but ran along with the airship rather than be pulled over again. The airship began to broach beam on to the wind. Willy ran, yelling as he did: “Pedal Noddy, pedal! Turn the nose into the wind!”
Willy was gaining but slowly. Already he was half way down the field and the trees at the far end were looming up. He kept running but was aware he was starting to pant.
Noddy seemed petrified with fear. He stopped pedalling and just hung on and stared. Willy tried to yell to him to keep pedalling but it just came out as a gasp. Stephen continued to run with the airship but took the bowline from around his waist. Now the trees stood as high as the airship in Willy’s vision. Willy saw why Stephen had removed the mooring rope, even as he yelled to him not to. The barbed wire fence at the far end of the field was getting close and he obviously did not wish to get dragged through it.
At that moment the gust of wind died away. Willy pushed himself on and caught up with Stephen. He reached out and grabbed the rope.
“Pull! We must stop it!” he gasped, throwing his weight on the line and digging his heels in. Stephen did likewise. They slid for a bit, but slowly brought the airship to a halt, just short of the fence. Willy began hauling the airship down, hand over hand.
Noddy began to wrestle with the safety belt.
Willy was dismayed. “Stay on Noddy, wait till the others get here and we can hold her down,” he cried. He reached up and grasped the frame.
Noddy paid no heed. He unbuckled the belt and began to scramble off, getting tangled in the guy ropes as he did. He clawed these aside and jumped. Willy shouted not to but was ignored. Knowing what to expect he hung on grimly and hauled at the framework. Suddenly he felt himself being lifted.
“Help me Noddy! Grab hold! Keep pulling Steve!”
Willy looked around for help. Stephen still held the mooring line but Noddy had run clear and was just standing and looking. Stick and the others were strung out across the field. Willy saw dust and grass swirl up- another gust of wind was coming!
“Noddy, grab hold! Help me!” Willy shouted. Then he felt the wind arrive as a wave of physical pressure. Dust blew into his eyes and he blinked. Grit got into his mouth when he opened it to yell. He felt the airship lift and held on tight.
In an instant he was above Stephen’s head. Willy hung on, dangling below the frame. He saw Stephen pulling on the mooring rope- saw his boots scrabbling in the dust as he was dragged along. The barbed wire fence passed under Willy’s kicking feet.
The airship lifted suddenly. Willy’s mind registered it as it happened. ‘Let go while you can!’ part of his mind screamed. ‘No, you are already too high!’ cried another part. Willy screamed at Stephen to hang on, but to no avail. Rather than be pulled against the barbed wire fence Stephen let go.
The airship rocketed upwards so quickly that Willy’s stomach seemed to drop right down into his bowels- where it formed a tight knot from fear. Willy clung on desperately.
It was unbelievable! He was above the tops of the trees and still rising.
He was adrift!
CHAPTER 22
UP- UP- AND AWAY!
Willy looked down and saw that his feet were skimming through the leaves on top of a tree! He was gripped by a spasm of sheer terror. ‘If I fall I will die!’
There, below him, was the fallen tree where Uncle Ted had been murdered. Willy goggled as his mind took in the fact that he was dangling under the frame of his airship high above the vehicle track that led down across the creek. Fear kept his grip tight but already he could feel his muscles tiring.
‘The airship must come down in a minute,’ he told himself hopefully as he floated high above the creek. ‘Perhaps the mooring rope will catch in a tree,’ he thought. He looked down at the rope and was appalled to see that the loop at the end appeared to dangle well above the tree tops.
Optimistically he told himself that the trees in the creek were lower and that as he drifted across the high ground beyond there was a chance. Then another gust of wind struck the airship. It slewed around and vibrated violently. The severe motion nearly shook Willy off. Only fear kept him gripping the frame. The horizon seemed to roll past his eyes. He glimpsed the field he had left- already unbelievably far behind. Tiny, ant-like figures were running across it, some after him and some back towards the already distant farm. He looked down hoping to find himself lower and saw that he was across the creek and over another open field- the next farm!
Behind him, along the creek, he saw the tree tops writhing. It was peculiar and unusual. What could it be? Then realization hit him. It was another violent gust of wind being funnelled along the valley. ‘It will shake me off. I’ll be killed!’ he thought. He knew he could not hold on much longer, and certainly not through another severe buffeting.
“I don’t want to die!” he cried. “I haven’t lived yet!”
Willy looked up. “I must get onto the frame before my arm muscles give up,” he told himself. He tried to swing his feet up but could not manage it. Worse, he realized he was sweating with fear and it was making his palms slippery. “Seconds to live!” he muttered as he looked around frantically.
There, close beside him, was the mooring rope. It was about a metre away but he was able to swing his right leg and curl the rope around it. He then swung his other leg across and pressed down on the rope with it, so that it was locked across the instep of his other foot. One of the knots they had tied to stop the rope slipping through their hands was caught by his foot and helped jam it tight. With his feet secure he risked moving one hand along the frame closer to the rope. That made things easier so he moved the other hand. Now he was right under the rope and able to grip it tighter.
By reaching out once more Willy was able to reach up to the top of the frame at the handlebars. He moved his other hand up and glanced around, only to immediately look back. The airship was down by the nose and rotating so rapidly that the spinning horizon made him feel giddy. Then he felt the wind begin to buffet the airship.
As the airship began to pitch and roll Willy clung on desperately. He gripped the rope with his feet and pushed himself up so that he could wedge a foot into the frame. Then he hauled himself up onto the madly spinning and pitching frame. As he did he snagged his trousers on the handlebars and thought he was going to be bucked off. The world seemed to jump and shake. The horizon spun and swooped and he felt disoriented and ill.
“Calm down!” he shouted to himself. By an effort of willpower he focused his eyes, took a firm grip and unhooked his trousers. Then he was able to lift himself up and get his left leg over the frame. By bracing a foot in the lattice work of the frame he was able to hoist himself onto the frame.
The buffeting stopped. The spinning horizon slowed down. Willy’s eyes focused on a field of bright green plants below him. They appeared to be just below the end of the mooring rope. The loop even struck a couple of plants.
‘I can slide down the rope and drop off,’ he thought. Then another thought came to him. ‘But t
hen I will lose my airship.’ The memory of the model zeppelin getting smaller and smaller came to him. “No! I will try to save the airship,” he muttered.
Recovering his wits Willy grabbed the guy ropes and climbed over the handlebars onto the bicycle frame. He slid onto the seat and gripped the handlebars. The airship settled on an even keel. Willy suddenly felt in control. He uttered a silent prayer of thanks for his father having insisted on ‘pilot training’. Secure on the seat he looked around to get his bearings.
And got another shock.
The mountains of the Lamb Range now towered up above him. He was astounded that the wind could have blown him so far so quickly. His mind told him that the mountains were still a few kilometres away but they were no longer blue with distance. Instead they looked greeny-brown and individual trees stood out.
Willy looked down and saw that sliding down the rope was no longer an option. Either the ground had dropped or he had risen. The mooring rope looked a long way above the green plants. Trembling from the exertion and fear he shook his head and carefully studied his surroundings. When he looked back he could no longer tell which field was the farm, or even which line of trees was the creek.
“I’d better get this contraption under control,” Willy told himself. He began to pedal. The propeller worked. So did the steering. Good! He continued pedalling with a steady rhythm and tried to turn the airship for home. It responded but still kept sliding backwards over the ground. The edge of the field passed underneath.
Willy glanced behind him to check where the wind was blowing him- and got another shock.
Seemingly no distance away and apparently at his own height were the wires of the high voltage power line- the one that ran from Cairns to Mareeba. Willy’s mind instantly saw two solutions:- slide down the rope and drop, regardless of injury- or try to get above the hazard. He knew it would be certain death to be swept against them.
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