by Philip Roy
Hollie greeted me excitedly when I stepped from the water, and, for the first time since arriving in Perth, so did Seaweed. I was so glad to see him because we were walking away from the coast now, and he wouldn’t be able to spot the sub, and would wonder where we were. Maybe he would think we had left without him. I knew that Seaweed would always survive wherever he was, because he was tough and resourceful, but I sure didn’t want to lose him.
We walked to the mouth of Fremantle Harbour once again, and then followed it inland until it became the Swan River. It was dark when we started out, but by the time we reached the point at which the harbour became a river, it was late morning. After being cooped up in a submarine for a whole month, it wasn’t hard to walk all day. And that’s what I intended to do for several more days.
It was especially nice once we were walking beside the river, because the river was beautiful, and lined with trees and parks, and we often had shade to walk in, and rest in, and later to sleep in. We also had access to shops for the first day, which weren’t too far from the river, and pizza, and another of the pleasures I missed at sea—candy. I stuffed my pockets with it, and ate it pretty much constantly on the first day. Then I had to buy a toothbrush and toothpaste, because I had forgotten to bring mine along, and my teeth had grown a thick layer of plaque on them. I didn’t give Hollie or Seaweed any candy because it wasn’t good for them, but I did share a bag of popcorn.
The river narrowed surprisingly quickly as we travelled upstream beside it. By the end of the first day, we were standing on the bank of a gently flowing current that I could easily have swum across with one breath. It was hard to believe we were just miles away from where the river turned into one of the world’s greatest harbours.
In one of the last shops along the way, I was able to buy a frozen pizza. I carried it for a few hours to let it thaw, and the three of us sat on the riverbank and ate it raw beneath the shade of a humongous tree, with hundreds of snake-like roots that spread around us like a basket. Cooked pizza was a lot better. Still, we were happy to have it.
The soil of the riverbank where we sat was dry, spongy, and soft, and I figured it was a good place to sleep. We were outside of the city now. There were a few scattered houses, very few shops, and some farms. The whole area was incredibly beautiful, although unbelievably dry. In Canada, we’d call this a drought. In fact, Australia looked like what Canada might look like if we had a drought that lasted for a hundred years.
Under the branches of the tree I rolled out my mat and pulled my jacket over myself like a blanket. Hollie made himself cosy on the ground beside me. Seaweed sat by my feet, facing the river. I felt safe having the nose and ears of a dog, and the eyes of a seagull, to watch for spiders and snakes at night. Australia had a lot of poisonous spiders and snakes. As we drifted to sleep, we could hear ripples in the river, but mostly it was silent. Looking beyond the treetops, I watched the stars blink silently, and thought what a wonderful life we had. But I couldn’t watch for long because the weight of sleep fell heavily upon me.
Waking from one of the best sleeps of my life, I stood up and stretched as the crew stretched. I rolled up the sleeping mat, packed up our things, and headed off to find a grocery store. It wasn’t easy to find one now, and we had to walk quite a ways from the river before we spotted a small store that was attached to a house. Stepping inside, I found that it took my eyes awhile to adjust to the darkness. The first thing I spied were bags of candy, which I couldn’t resist. I also bought a jar of peanut butter, a jar of jam, a loaf of bread, a bag of granola, four oranges, four bananas, a bottle of milk, and a jug of water. I had to carry the water jug in my hands, but it had a handle that made that easier, and I could switch hands. We couldn’t go into a dry nature reserve without water, and I didn’t know if the water in the river was safe to drink.
As I stood at the cash with Hollie at my feet, waiting for the clerk to ring in our groceries, I looked up at the TV screen above his head, which was showing the news. There was a picture of a ship down at the harbour—a tanker. Then there was a picture of a really large propeller under water, with two blades missing! I froze! The sound on the TV was low, and it was too difficult to make out what the news people were saying, but they showed a sketch of a small submarine, a sketch of a young man, and a small dog. My head started to spin, and I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to ask the man at the counter to turn up the volume but didn’t want to draw attention to us. I paid for our groceries, thanked the man, and went out the door. My heart was thumping in my chest.
Outside, I stared at the telephone booth. Maybe I could call them and tell them that it wasn’t me, and that the sub is still there at the bottom of the pier. I could explain how we had walked all day yesterday, and slept by the river, and couldn’t possibly have sabotaged the tanker. That was a good idea. I stepped inside the booth and reached for the phone book. Then I hesitated. If I called them, and told them it wasn’t me, they’d ask me if I knew who it was, and I’d have to tell them I didn’t know, because there was no way I would tell on Jewels. Problem was, I wasn’t very good at lying, especially under pressure. And they would most certainly put me under pressure if they brought me in for questioning. And if they did bring me in—which they would surely do—and kept me locked up for a month or two while they figured it all out, what would become of Hollie and Seaweed?
I stepped out of the phone booth and walked slowly back to the river. I needed to think it through. Someone had sabotaged the tanker, and had been put up to it by Jewels, who had received the idea from me. Did that make me responsible? Or was it possible that somebody else had come up with the same idea? That seemed unlikely, though I supposed it was possible. Either way, they thought it had been me. And they would come looking for me now. And I doubted they’d bother to search the bottom of the pier. They’d think we had sailed away. They’d search for us at sea.
Chapter Ten
WE FOLLOWED THE RIVER into Walyunga National Park, which was filled with trees, rocks, hills, and gorges, and, with its dry red earth, was what I imagined Mars might look like if it had trees. The walk along the river was well shaded, secluded, and wonderful, even though I was nervous in my gut all day. But I had come up with a plan.
Since the police, coast guard, and navy would be searching for us at sea, and would assume we were trying to sail away; then, after a week or so, when they hadn’t found us, they’d surely think we were gone for good, and would stop searching. So all we had to do was stay away from the pier for about a week or so, sneak in at night, motor the sub under another ship, and follow it out to sea. We’d appear as one vessel on sonar, and be undetectable by radar. Then, once we were out of Australian waters, I would contact the Perth harbour police on shortwave, and explain exactly what had happened—that it hadn’t been me, and that I didn’t know who it was.
I thought it was a good plan, and it might have worked, except for one very unlucky moment. Just before entering the park, I went searching for a small store to buy more water and snacks. We were eating and drinking more food and water than on the sub. If we were going to disappear into the woods for a week, we had to have more of both. But the only store I could find was inside a small garage, and didn’t offer much. I went in without taking my hat off, and left Hollie outside in the tool bag, in the shade. I felt confident no one would recognize me from the picture that had been on the news, especially when it didn’t even look like me.
There was a gruff looking man sitting behind the counter eating a bowl of soup out of a Styrofoam bowl when I came in. He looked up when he saw me, and said, “G’day.”
“G’day!” I said, trying to sound Australian. I picked up a jug of water, a bottle of milk, five bags of nacho chips, three bags of trail mix, a box of cookies, a handful of chocolate bars, and a large bag of peppermints. You needed lots of sugar when you were walking all day. As I put the things down on the counter, beside a pile of newspapers, I saw the story of the tanker sabotage on the very first page, including t
he sketch of Hollie and me. I pretended to ignore it. That’s when another man came inside the store, carrying Hollie in the tool bag.
“Is this your dog?” he said.
I turned and looked at him. He seemed kind, the sort of person who loves animals.
“Yes,” I said. “He’s mine.”
“I heard something whining outside and couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Then I saw him in the bag. You didn’t have to leave him outside, mate. We let dogs in the store. He’s a cute little fellah, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.” I turned around to pay for my things, but now the man behind the counter was staring at Hollie. Then he stared at me. And then he stared at the newspaper. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes were a little wider than before. I paid for our stuff, thanked both men, and left the garage, but I could feel their eyes on my back as we walked away.
Had he recognized us? I was pretty sure that he had. When we reached the park, we disappeared into the woods, and spent the rest of the day hiking up and down the hills, heading east. But I couldn’t stop worrying about the man in the garage. Would he report us to the police? I had to assume that he would.
That night, I heard the engine of a jeep roaming through the park as we slept in our tent. Was it police, or was it just park officials on regular patrol? I had pitched the tent beneath the boughs of a tree in the most secluded spot I could find. I wanted to stay inside to guard against snakes and spiders, and Hollie stayed with me. Seaweed slept on the roof, but kept sliding off noisily and waking us up. At one point, the engine sounded very near, and I lay still, wondering if they had found us. Then the sound went away, but I couldn’t tell if that was because they had turned the engine off, or had just disappeared over a hill. Suddenly, I heard what I thought were boots on the ground. I sat up. They were coming so fast. How could they have found us in the middle of the night? They couldn’t have spotted us from the air. And we hadn’t lit a fire, or used any light. It didn’t make sense. How could they have found us?
They were coming so quickly I didn’t see how we could run for it. Running through the woods at night was difficult, especially when it was hilly. How was it they were able to move so quickly? I couldn’t figure it out. And yet, they didn’t come directly to where we were. They circled us a few times. Were they just guessing? I was surprised at how much noise they were making. Suddenly it occurred to me that they weren’t police officers at all, because I heard Hollie make his little growl, and he only growled at animals.
I opened the zipper of the tent and poked my head outside. There, under the light of the moon, I watched a herd of shadows race through the trees, pounding the spongy earth as they went. I couldn’t see them clearly, but I knew now what they were. Kangaroos. Amazing. They were as fast as deer.
The next day, we started walking as soon as there was light. We continued east, judging by the sun, and walked where the trees were thickest. But it was unnerving. Several times we had to duck down when we were close to a trail or road, and a jeep came by. What I was really afraid of was that they would come looking for us with dogs. We’d never have a chance of escaping them then. But I wasn’t even certain they were looking for us.
We saw more kangaroos in the early morning, and again in the twilight. Once again, they reminded me of deer, because they seemed very gentle. They were nocturnal, too, as were wombats, which we also saw, shuffling along the ground like miniature tanks, and pushing everything out of their way. Hollie growled at them ever so quietly, but they completely ignored him. The wildlife of Australia was so different from the wildlife of Canada it was hard to believe. This was especially true with the birds. As twilight settled in a valley we were passing through, we heard what sounded like a chorus of insane circus clowns laughing their heads off. The sound echoed all around us as if it were coming from speakers on every tree. I was completely bewildered at first, but then remembered having heard the sound before on TV, and knew what it was: the kookaburra—a small bird with an unbelievably big call. It was hauntingly funny. In Canada, we had the mournful song of the loon, the cry of the coyote, and the howl of the wolf, but I doubted there was any sound in Canada that could match the crazy hysterical wailing of the kookaburra.
By the end of the second day, we had walked out of Walyunga National Park and into Avon National Park, and the Swan River had become the Avon River. Following the river like a shadow were train tracks, and I would have liked to walk on them, but they were too exposed to the air. So we stayed in the trees, but usually within sight of both the tracks and the river. The river was just a stream now, easy to step over, but also too exposed to travel on. It was a lot of work climbing up and down the hills, and by the time we crawled into the tent, we were exhausted. I slept without waking, and if kangaroos, or anything else, had come by, I never heard them. By the morning, just when I was starting to think that we were not being chased at all, we were discovered.
We had slept in. Walking for a few days in the heat of Australia took more out of us than I would have guessed. I didn’t wake when I normally would have, nor did Hollie, and Seaweed didn’t care if we were up or not. I had pitched the tent on top of a hill in a group of trees. You couldn’t see it from the road, or the river, or train tracks, but you could see it from the air. The sun must have been up for two or three hours when I heard the buzz of a small airplane in the distance.
“Hollie! Quick!” I jumped up, unzipped the front of the tent, and scooted Hollie out. Then I pulled down the poles, gathered the tent together as quickly as I could, and shoved it into the knapsack. But I think we were too late. To us, the plane looked far away, but I knew from experience that when you’re searching for something with binoculars, you’ll see it long before it will see you. Even so, I stood still against the trunk of the tree and held Hollie in my arms as the plane passed overhead. It made a few close passes before it went away. If there were jeeps in the area in communication with the plane, we were in trouble.
I just didn’t want to get caught. In a way, things weren’t as bad as they might have been because I hadn’t actually done anything wrong. And I could sort of prove it. The fact that we had been walking for a few days, and could find witnesses in stores to verify that; and the fact that the sub was still on the harbour floor, ought to convince the police that we had nothing to do with the sabotage. But I didn’t want them to hold me against my will and separate me from my crew. And I didn’t want to get Jewels into trouble. What if they made me take a lie-detector test, and I failed it?
But those weren’t the only reasons I didn’t want to get caught. Knowing that somebody was chasing me made me feverishly determined to get away. Maybe I was crazy, but I wanted to know that I could escape if I really had to. At sea, I always could. Maybe if I put my mind to it, I could here, too.
And so, I changed tactics. Instead of keeping to the woods, I went down to the river and started jogging downstream. We were heading back towards the city now, at least for a while. There were lots of large rocks in the river, especially where it was dry, and if the plane came back, I planned to hide in the shadow of one. I could also curl up in a ball in the stream itself, stay absolutely still and pretend to be a rock. Travelling through the river would also allow us to escape if they brought dogs out, because the dogs would lose our scent in the water.
For a while it seemed to work. I heard the plane two more times, but it was distant. Then, I heard a train coming. For a moment I got excited, because I thought maybe we could hop onto it, and catch a ride all the way back into the city. But the instant I saw it, I knew that was impossible. It was moving way too fast. It would have been suicide.
But the noise of the train was a disaster, because it lasted a long time, and prevented me from hearing the sound of two jeeps that were coming closer all the time. By the time I heard them they could see me.
They were on a hill a couple of hundred feet from the river. It was too late to hide in the river now. Instead, I jumped out, ran up the bank, through the trees, a
nd down the hill. As I went over the crest of the hill, I heard their engines rev higher. The chase was on.
The road didn’t follow the river closely at that point, because of the hills, which was a big help to me. In my mind, I was preparing what I would say if they caught me. I’d pretend I didn’t know what they were talking about, and say that I was only running because they were chasing me, and that I didn’t know why they were.
At the bottom of the hill I stopped and listened for the jeeps. At first, I heard nothing. But then there was a distant whirring sound that could only have been their engines whining as they raced around the winding dirt road. Instead of running further down the hill, to where they would eventually catch up with me, I did the opposite; I ran back up to where we had been. It was kind of steep, and a lot of work for Hollie. When we reached the top, I lifted him up and put him in the tool bag. He was ready for a rest now but I was bursting with energy.
Back up the hill, I crossed the river and ran to the next rise. I wanted to cross the road and reach the highest point on the hill, and from there, decide which way to go. The road snaked around the hill in sharp turns that made it difficult to identify where sounds were coming from, and that led me to make a second mistake. I heard what I took to be the distant sound of jeeps’ engines way down the hill. Instead, it turned out to be the engine of a third jeep just around the corner. I scrambled across the road and tried to get into the bushes before it saw me, but was too late. As I jumped across the bank, the jeep skidded to a stop on the road, spraying dust and small rocks everywhere. I lay still where I landed, holding the tool bag in my arms, and trying to breathe quietly. I heard a door open and someone jump out. Shoot! I dropped my head. How I hated to get caught. Maybe I could still make a run for it by going up the hill. They’d have to chase me on foot, and maybe they wouldn’t catch me. Surely they wouldn’t shoot at me, or, if they did, they’d warn me first and I would stop. I got ready to bolt when I heard someone call my name. “Alfred!” He didn’t yell it though; he whispered it. I raised my head out of the bush. I saw a young man in shorts and t-shirt. He waved his arm frantically at me. “Hurry up, mate! Come with me. I’m Brian Bennett.”