By this time the mist in all the low lying areas was coalescing into banks of fog. The fog not only slowed them down but blotted out the sky. Past Bromfield Swamp the road became gravel and began to climb a long, narrow ridge. This brought them above the fog so they stopped. For ten minutes they stood and scanned the sky, shivering in the cold.
“It is hard to tell which way this breeze is blowing,” Stephen complained. “It seems to be a different direction in each place.”
“All these hills and valleys would cause that,” Mrs Williams said. “At least it’s not much of a wind. They can’t have been blown very far.”
“And if they crash it shouldn’t be too hard,” Noddy added.
“Yes. Thank you for that thought Noddy,” Mrs Williams replied frostily.
They called the Range Rover on the phone. It had driven all the way up to the road junction on Mt Hypipamee. They had seen nothing. Mr Williams said they were going to drive back to Malanda along the Thiaka Creek Road and suggested they look along the Stonehouse Road.
This suggestion led to a study of the map before they set out to do this. They had no sooner started when the police car in front stopped and Senior Constable Grey walked back to them. Mrs Williams wound down the window.
“We’ve just had another sighting reported,” Senior Constable Grey said. “Over on the Kennedy Highway near Mt Weerimba. Follow me.”
They drove half a kilometre then turned down a secondary road which wound down a steep hill through another valley full of fog. After crossing a small concrete bridge they drove up onto another ridge. This brought them to the Kennedy Highway. They turned left and drove towards Mt Hypipamee. After several kilometres they stopped at a farm.
An elderly farmer and his wife met them and explained how they had heard someone shouting and had gone outside to investigate.
“Couldn’t see anyone,” the farmer said. “Then I realized the noise was above me and I looked up and saw this giant blob just overhead. I near wet meself.”
“Henry!” the farmer's wife reproved.
“Sorry Mabel. Anyhow, this young feller calls down to me for help and tells me ter grab the rope. Well, I couldn’t see no rope and there weren’t nothing I could do. He drifted off that way,” the farmer said, pointing to the west.
“Is there a road down there?” Snr Const Grey asked.
“Aw yeah, but only my farm tracks. I wouldn’t take them fancy cars down there. You’d bog for sure.”
So they waited for a few minutes until the sergeant’s car and the Range Rover arrived. The farmer consented to act as guide so Sergeant Carmody ordered the teenagers out of the Range Rover and told Senior Constable Grey to get in with him. The other policeman was left with the police cars. The Range Rover drove off down a muddy lane and the farmer’s wife ushered the others into the welcome warmth of the farmhouse.
For nearly an hour they sat in the lounge room. It was snug, with a crackling log fire. Over cups of tea and coffee they told the astonished farmer’s wife the story. She was full of sympathy for Mrs Williams; and, by some sort of intuition, for Marjorie.
“Don’t worry dearie. They will find them alright,” she said.
From time to time the policeman went out to the cars and Marjorie went to scan the night sky. Graham and Peter both stretched out in the corner to rest. The others talked, tracing the airship’s route on a map, trying to predict where it might end up.
At 11:15pm the policeman came in. “Just had a call from base. A bloke driving along the East Barron Road has just seen an airship.”
They thanked the farmer’s wife and rushed outside. Mrs Williams got her group in the car and sped off, followed by the police car with Graham, Peter, Stick and Marjorie. As she drove Mrs Williams phoned the Range Rover and passed on the report.
Not knowing the roads she missed the turnoff which led to the East Barron Road but Graham was navigating in the police car and they made the turn. Mrs Williams turned around and followed the police car. They went east along a bitumen secondary road over a wide, flat ridge of open farm, down through a fog filled hollow, across a small bridge, left along another secondary road and past a farm, then up a slope out of the fog onto another wide, flat ridge.
They stopped here when the police car pulled up. They learned that the man who had seen the airship had kept driving and had gone all the way in to Atherton to report it. So the information was twenty minutes old before they had received it. All they could do was drive slowly along, stopping from time to time to get out for a better look.
As they went northward the ridge slowly dropped. Ahead of them loomed a vast sea of fog which appeared to extend for many kilometres. When at last they reached the edge of this they stopped.
“I think we are half an hour too late,” Peter said.
Graham agreed. “The wind is blowing west. They should be over there somewhere,” he said. He pointed to a range of forested hills which stuck up out of the fog like conical islands. “Wongabel,” he read from the map.
The Range Rover and the sergeant’s car caught them up at this point and there was another discussion about where to look next.
“Over around Wongabel,” Sgt Carmody agreed. He sent the two cars back the way they had come and went on with his car and the Rover. This led them down into the fog. After a few minutes they reached the main Atherton-Malanda Road and turned left. They drove towards Atherton until they reached the Kennedy Highway. Just as they turned left along it they got a phone call from Mrs Williams. They had sighted the airship.
They drove as fast as was safe in the fog. The highway entered patches of forest and skirted the western side of the Wongabel Hills; extinct volcanic cones. The other cars were stopped on an open straight. They all got out to look, joining the others standing in the fog on the roadside.
“We just glimpsed it through the fog,” Mrs Williams said. “It drifted off that way very slowly. It looked to be only about fifty metres up but it was hard to tell in the dark.”
“Then the mooring rope might catch in a tree,” Mr Williams added hopefully.
They shone torches and spotlights out across what looked like a field of high grass.
Graham consulted his map. “That is a big swamp,” he said. “It goes all the way across to the old railway to Herberton.”
“To Carrington,” Sergeant Carmody supplemented.
They studied the map again. Senior Constable Grey pointed to mountains and said: “Well they can’t go too far that way. The Herberton Range is over there and they won’t get over that.”
Noddy gave a chuckle. “They got over the Lamb Range,” he pointed out.
“That was in strong winds,” Mr Williams snapped irritably. “There is only the gentlest of breezes now.”
In fact there was almost no wind at all and the fog was barely ruffled by it. After studying the roads they again set of driving, two vehicles back southwards, then west across the road to Carrington; the others north and then west along the bitumen road to Wirpoo.
Thirty minutes later they all met up on the main Herberton- Atherton Road at Carrington. Nothing had been seen and the fog was now so thick as to hide the sky completely. Another conference was held with them all clustered around the bonnet of the Range Rover on which Graham’s map was spread.
“Just after midnight,” Sergeant Carmody said. “This is getting pointless with all this fog. I will call in another car to take over and send you two home.” This was to Senior Constable Grey and the other policeman. “It is past the end of their shift,” he explained to Willy’s parents. “We will keep looking but I recommend that you people all get some sleep. There doesn’t seem to be much more we can do until daylight.”
Willy’s mother looked distressed and shook her head. “But they could die from exposure,” she said.
Sergeant Carmody nodded. “I’m sorry. We are doing all we can. Now, I need to go back to the station to contact Roger Dunning’s parents; and I think you would all be better off resting. You will just exhaus
t yourselves. I will find you a room for the night.”
Reluctantly Willy’s parents agreed. They followed the sergeant’s car to Atherton, only a few minutes drive away, and a motel was quickly found with the sergeant’s help. The proprietor was grumpy at being hauled out of bed into the cold but once the situation had been explained he was quite helpful. Rooms were opened and tired people thankfully made their way in.
Willy’s parents took one room, Shona and Marjorie the next and the five boys in two more. Graham tactfully suggested that he and Peter camp somewhere to keep down the expense but Mr Williams would not hear of it. “If it is because you can’t afford the room, forget it. After all the help you boys have been it is the least I can do. I am paying and gratefully.”
Relieved, Graham and Peter joined Stephen in the room. They tossed for the two beds, Graham ending up on the floor. This was carpeted and he was given two cushions so was quite satisfied. They made themselves cups of hot coffee and had a hot shower. Thus restored they sat and talked through the night’s events. After a time they settled down. Graham was so worried he was sure he would not sleep but, like the others, he was sound asleep within minutes.
CHAPTER 28
AIRSHIP OVER ATHERTON
Graham was enjoying a most erotic dream, in which he was just about to win with Rowena, when he was roughly shaken awake.
“Wake up! The airship’s been seen!” Peter called.
Graham at once struggled into consciousness. “Where?”
“Near the cemetery, on the other side of town,” Peter replied as he shook Stephen.
The boys hastily dressed. Mr Williams opened the door and called in: “Come on! I am going. If you aren’t aboard you miss out.” He was still tucking in a shirt and had a jacket over his shoulder. The teenagers rushed out the door, boots in hand, and scrambled into the Range Rover. The girls, still pulling on pullovers, came rushing out of the next room and bundled into the car. Mrs Williams followed.
“What time is it?” Peter asked as the vehicle’s engine roared into life.
“Just before six. It will be daylight soon,” Mr Williams replied. He turned the vehicle and set off for the south side of town. The car followed. They drove through foggy streets and turned up the main road which led up the hill on which Atherton was built. As they turned right near the top of the hill they came out of the fog.
Half a kilometre further along at the sharp bend to the left just up from the International Club, a police car was parked. Even before they braked to a halt Graham saw the airship in the grey half-light. It stood out as a black shape sitting on a sea of white fog. They all scrambled out of the vehicles into the icy morning air and stood on the dewy grass. It was so cold their breath appeared to steam.
“It is heading this way,” Peter observed.
The airship was a few hundred metres away but only the top half of the balloon was visible.
“I think it is resting on a layer of colder air,” Stick suggested. “That is what is holding it up.”
“You might be right,” Mr Williams agreed. A second police car arrived and Senior Constable Grey and Sergeant Carmody joined them.
Stephen took off his glasses which had fogged up in the cold air. “Definitely coming this way,” he said as he rubbed them on his shirt.
“But very slowly,” Mrs Williams added, her concern clear in her voice.
The group stood and anxiously watched as the airship crept towards them. Wreaths of fog swirled around it as a gentle breeze stirred it up. Very slowly more of the balloon became visible, and then the bike frame; as a vague shape in the mist.
A sudden change of temperature caused the breeze to increase slightly as the full flush of dawn spread across the fog to reveal the distant mountains of the Herberton Range. Stephen again took off his glasses. They had fogged up in the billow of mist which engulfed them for a minute. He wiped them then put them on again and looked at the airship.
“I can only see one person,” he said. He wiped his glasses again and looked a second time. Mrs Williams gasped in concern. But Graham saw that Stephen was right: there was only one person on the bike frame. The rope trailing underneath into the fog had nothing at the end of it. A stab of sickening apprehension lanced through him.
“Roger must have fallen off,” Graham said. He felt his throat constrict and tears formed at the corners of his eyes. Poor old Roger! He had been a good mate.
Mr Williams shook his head, concern on his face. “He’s not moving,” he observed.
“Probably frozen stiff,” Noddy suggested.
Peter and Stick both nudged him and Marjorie let out a sob. Senior Constable Grey reached into his car and tooted the horn. At that the tiny figure on the airship moved and they saw an arm wave.
“He’s alive!” Marjorie cried with relief. She danced up and down and called out and waved. They saw arms wave in reply.
“He’s pedalling,” Graham said.
The airship was almost at the same height as them, the frame even lower.
“If he keeps coming this way the rope will reach the ground. Get ready to grab it,” Stick cried. He ran down into the car park of the International Club, followed by the other teenagers. More cars arrived, disgorging a number of people. Among these were Roger’s parents and a TV crew.
The airship drew slowly closer to them. The first flush of pink lit up the balloon. The breeze blew fitfully, stirring up the upper layer of fog, making it swirl around the airship. The teenagers watched the shape, now hazy in the mist, as it crept over the club house. The end of the rope actually touched the roof and dragged across it.
The mist cleared and they looked up.
“It’s Roger!” Peter cried in amazement.
“Oh my God! Where’s Willy?” Mrs Williams cried. Mr Williams moved to put his arm around her as she began to sob.
Senior Constable Grey shook his head in disbelief as he stared up at the airship. “Holy mackerel! Now I’ve seen everything!” he cried.
The rope slid off the roof and dangled tantalizingly just above their heads. The boys tried jumping up to grab it but fell short by about a metre. The bitumen car park had a gentle slope to it and they moved up the slope as the airship drifted overhead but despite jumping as high as they could the end of the rope remained tantalizingly just out of reach.
“Get something to hook that bloody rope!” Sergeant Carmody snapped at the two watching constables. The TV crew ran down to capture the action. A van from a Radio Station screeched to a halt in the car park. Senior Constable Grey glared at it, then strode over and scrambled up onto its roof. His grasping fingers just tipped the rope before it moved out of reach.
Graham ran up the sloping car park, jumping up to try to grab the rope. He called, “You are drifting sideways. Pedal Roger! Pedal!”
Roger pedalled. The propeller whirred but the slight breeze had the airship in its grip and it slid crabwise off over towards the side of the car park.
Peter made a run and a jump but even though his fingertips touched the loop he did nto manage to grab it. landing again he ran along underneath. “Get off Roger. Slid edown the rope!” he shouted.
Roger looked down. It was only ten metres but Graham could see that he was scared.
“I can’t!” Roger wailed. “I’m all cramped up. I won’t be able to hang on.”
Graham made another attempt to grab the rope but then had to get out of the way as a van was driven over next to the fence. Senior Constable Grey ran with it and began scrambling up on the roof. But he was just too late. The airship drifted over the fence and the end of the rope dragged up and over the barbed wire on top. The nose of the airship even tipped one of the tall light poles in the corner. But then it spun slowly around and away across the boundary fence before the van could be repositioned. Roger pedalled till he had to stop for lack of breath. By then the first rays of the sun were lighting up the balloon.
Graham stopped at the wire fence and shook his head. “He’s too high. If he keeps drifting th
at way he will go away from the hill and out over the town,” he said.
“Come down Roger! Bring it down!” Stick shouted.
“I can’t. I don’t know how,” Roger wailed.
“Let out some gas. Climb up a guy rope and puncture the balloons,” Stick shouted back.
Roger looked up then shook his head. “I can’t. My fingers and arms are all cramped.”
“He’s not game to climb up,” Stephen said with a hint of a sneer.
“I’m not surprised,” Graham answered.
By then the airship was a hundred metres away and obviously drifting around the side of the hill under the influence of the breeze. The group walked quickly up to the gateway. Here they turned left and walked quickly along the verge, following the airship’s movements.
As he reached the bend leading into town Graham looked around in astonishment. Where there had been four or five cars a few minutes before there were now dozens. There were so many the police were being distracted onto traffic control. And more cars were arriving. As parked cars were started and vehicles began turning and following a traffic jam developed.
Mr and Mrs Williams went to their car both looking stunned. Marjorie and Shona stayed with them.
Roger’s mother and father joined the walking teenagers.
“What on earth is going on?” Mr Dunning asked angrily. “How did Roger get onto that contraption? You boys said you were going hiking!”
“We did sir,” Graham replied. He felt guilty, then resentful. “It is a long story and it is all a horrible accident.”
“The police said that two boys were on the airship,” Roger’s mother said.
“There were,” Peter replied. He looked back at where Willy’s parents were comforting each other. “Willy Williams was on it when we saw it last night, but he must have fallen off somewhere.”
“Oh my God!” Mrs Dunning cried.
“Can’t someone get that thing down,” Mr Dunning called angrily at the police.
“We are doing all we can sir,” Sergeant Carmody answered. “We have called for a helicopter. It should be here in about half an hour.”
Airship Over Atherton Page 30