His father shrugged. “He looks like my dad, but I’m not sure,” he replied.
Andrew was even more irritated by that. “These photos are really interesting but it is frustrating when they don’t say who it is or where it is.”
“Your Gran might know,” his father said.
Andrew hesitated before asking the question that was on his mind. “Dad, can you tell us more about Grandad?” he finally asked.
His father looked uncomfortable. After thinking for a moment he replied, “Well... yes... I can. But I am ashamed to admit I don’t know too much. I was only three when he died you see and Mum, your Gran I mean, wasn’t too keen to talk about him. Over the years it sort of stayed that way. I was reluctant to ask and you know how it is, the longer you leave something, the harder it gets.”
“Do you mind if I try to find out some more about him,” Andrew asked, anxious that he not cause further embarrassment.
His father laughed. “No. Go ahead. I don’t think there are any skeletons in the family closet.”
That image, and the concept of family scandals, caused Andrew to blush. To change the subject he picked up another photo. This showed the ramp of a navy Landing Barge on a beach. Standing on the ramp were two naval officers in white uniforms. Behind them, clustered on the bows and around the nose of a truck parked in the barge’s well deck, were a dozen men in a variety of clothes: mostly khaki shorts and shirts with their sleeves rolled up, or with no shirts at all.
“That is your Grandad on the ramp,” Andrew’s father said. “He was a lieutenant in the navy then. I think it was at one of those amphibious landings in New Guinea during World War Two.”
That made Andrew feel very ignorant. He was vaguely aware that there had been fighting on and around New Guinea during the Second World War but he did not know any details. A glance at the back of the photo was no help. ‘Unloading trucks,’ was all it said.
“No date. No place. No names. How annoying!” he muttered.
They looked through other photos. There was one of a wooden tourist launch. Andrew recognized Castle Hill, the main landmark in Townsville, in the background. ‘MV Malita’ was all that was written on it.
There were others showing several groups of people on a beach or under palms on Brampton Island. “Where is that?” Andrew asked.
“Not sure. One of those tourist resorts in the Whitsundays I think,” his father replied.
“Further south, closer to Mackay,” his mother put in. “I went there once for a trip. Lovely place.”
They sorted the photos into groups. Some were obvious: Herbert Collins in uniform as a naval officer, on various navy ships, standing on the deck of some small ship, standing in a full helmet diving rig on a ladder over the side of a lugger, baby photos, a wedding photo, several ships and barges in unknown harbours. It was simultaneously both fascinating and frustrating.
“Ask Gran,” his mother advised.
“I don’t want to upset her or make her embarrassed,” Andrew answered.
His mother shrugged. “I don’t think you will, not too much. It was a long time ago after all. Besides, I think you have a right to know.”
Andrew was still reluctant. Seeing this his mother said, “I will arrange it. After school tomorrow. I will invite her over for afternoon tea and explain why. That way she will be able to prepare herself.”
So it was arranged. Tuesday afternoon found Andrew, Carmen, their parents and Gran (Mrs Collins Senior), all seated around the dining room table, the tea cups pushed aside and the photos laid out. Andrew was still anxious so he said, “I hope you don’t mind Gran. It is just that I.. we.. felt we wanted to know. If it is going to upset you then don’t.”
Gran smiled at him and shook her head. “Oh, it’s alright. I was just a bit annoyed with him- the silly man- going off treasure hunting and then dying so that I had to bring up three kids on my own. Very hard going it was, and there weren’t all the Social Security payments in those days. We were very poor and had a lot of trouble making ends meet I can tell you. But I loved him. He was a good man.”
They were silent for a moment, waiting while Gran wandered back over the years in her memory. As Andrew watched he saw her face soften and she smiled several times. Then she picked up a baby photo. “This is him, when he was six months old. He was born in 1919, just after the Great War. His dad was a regular naval officer, Lieutenant Commander, Royal Navy, but after the war the British cut the size of their navy a lot and he was one of the ones dismissed. He came out to Australia to try his hand at business.”
She picked up a photo that showed a very stern looking man with a large spade-shaped beard. He was wearing an old-style naval officer’s full-dress uniform. On the back it was noted ‘Lt Cdr Egbert Collins, HMS Sword’, but no date. Andrew had known that both his great grandad and grandad had been naval officers and seeing the photo made him very proud.
Next Gran picked up a photo of three boys sitting on a rug on the lawn. They wore shorts with a bib and shoulder straps. Gran pointed to each in turn, “Norbert, Egbert and Albert,” she said. “There was a sister too. Ah! Here she is- Matilda.”
Andrew stared hard at the faces of these relatives of long ago with fascinated interest. The word ‘ancestors’ crossed his mind but he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. Carmen took the photo and began writing the details on the back. Next were photos of various houses, mostly old-style ‘Colonial’ bungalows or high-set ‘Old Queenslanders’. Gran named the places and Carmen carefully wrote the details onto the back of each photo.
“As you can see, they were quite well off,” Gran commented, pointing to a photo which showed a garden setting with a large house in the background.
Next she picked up the one of the MV Malita at Townsville. Now she did smile. “That is where your grandfather and I met,” she explained. “He was on his first job, as a deckhand; and I was on my first job too. I was the girl who served behind the refreshment counter.” She smiled again and then added, “I’ve never been able to see a packet of ‘Jaffas’ or ‘Fantales’ since without thinking of him.”
Carmen leaned over and hugged her. “Oh Gran! How romantic!” she gushed.
Gran nodded and patted her hand, then picked up one of the photos of Brampton Island. “This is where we met next. He was still a deckhand on a tourist launch but was working on his Mate’s Ticket. I had a job as a ‘domestic’ at the little tourist resort. It was a lovely place, and a wonderful time to be alive. Nineteen thirty seven that was. He was eighteen and I was seventeen.”
Once again Carmen sighed and smiled. Andrew quickly worked out the dates and deduced that it was only two years before World War 2 began. The next photo was smudgy little one of a small coastal steamship. There was no name and Gran could not remember it. “It was a sugar lighter,” she said. “I can remember that much. It was used to carry bagged sugar from the little ports like Mourilyan and Lucinda to Cairns or Townsville, where it was transferred to big ocean-going vessels. There were none of the bulk sugar terminals in those days. It was all loaded by hand in those bags. Bert was the Mate.”
Several very small photos, now faded to a yellowish brown, showed small sailing ‘luggers’ and groups of black men sorting sea shells. “That was just before the war broke out,” Gran said. “The second war I mean. Bert had earned a Coastal Master’s Ticket and was captain of a lugger at Thursday Island. I can’t remember its name but it would be written somewhere. That is when he began diving.”
“Diving?” Andrew queried.
“Yes, the silly man. Looking for pearls. He had one of those horrible canvas diving suits with the huge lead boots and that great big copper helmet. I was so scared when he told me, but he just laughed. I was so sure he would get caught in a giant clam or the air hose would be cut or something but he said it was really interesting and not nearly as dangerous as I imagined. But there were horrible accidents.”
“What sort of accidents Gran?” Carmen asked.
“Oh, divers getting d
ropped by accident too quickly into water that was too deep and getting all squashed up inside their helmets by the water pressure, that sort of thing,” Gran replied.
Carmen looked horrified. “Oh Gran! That is ghastly,” she said. Andrew could only feel anxious as he tried to imagine what it must have been like in an old-fashioned diving suit.
Gran went on, “I was ever so glad when he got a job as mate on a big coastal steamship.”
The next photo was of Bert in naval uniform, as a Sub Lieutenant RANVR and was dated 1940. It was followed by several on a big ship, “A British transport named the Islander,” Gran explained.
There followed the first one of Bert in a diving suit. “Because he had done some diving the navy sent him on a special diving course. He told me he volunteered for it, the silly man! Then he was sent on a salvage vessel named the Ringarooma or something to Darwin. That was in 1942, to help clear the harbour of wrecks after the big Japanese air raids.”
Andrew had at least read about that and could nod and appear intelligent. He was even more interested to see a photo of a big ship lying on its side with a low coastline of coconut palms across the water. ‘Anshun at Gili Gili, Milne Bay’ read the caption.
“I’ve heard of Milne Bay,” he said. “There was a battle there wasn’t there?”
At that Gran shook her head sadly and snorted. “Huh! You young people! You don’t know anything. Battle alright! It was the one that saved Australia from the Japs. It was the first big land battle in which the Japanese army was ever defeated, and it was us Aussies who did it.”
“And Grandad was there?” Carmen asked.
“No, he arrived just after it. But he was in action helping salvage ships damaged by enemy aircraft further north. He got a decoration for bravery. I’ve got the medal and citation at home somewhere.”
That was news to Andrew and he badly wanted to see those. He asked if he could and Gran nodded, “If I can find them dearie. They’ve been packed away for a very long time.”
Next was a photo taken at Lae in 1944, with landing barges. One was a group photo of some divers and their assistants and on seeing it Andrew pointed and bent closer. “That is the one we saw the other day. That man there is Old Mr Murchison.”
At that Gran snorted angrily. “Oh him! Humpf!”
Sensing he was a sensitive subject Andrew did not mention he had just met Old Mr Murchison. Instead he turned the page of the album. This revealed a large wedding photo. “Our wedding day,” Gran said, smiling. Andrew’s mother beamed and Carmen cried with delight
“Oh Gran! You were a beautiful bride!”
“And so will you be dearie,” Gran replied, again patting Carmen’s hand lovingly.
“When was that Gran?” Andrew asked.
“Nineteen forty seven, just after Bert returned from the navy,” Gran answered.
“You waited ten years!” Carmen cried in dismay.
Gran nodded. “Yes. That’s how things were then. We did think of getting married during the war but decided it was not fair to any children we might have, so we waited till it was over.”
The next photo was of a small coaster called the M V Bloomfield. “Carrying timber from Bloomfield and Daintree down to Johnston’s Sawmill at Stratford,” Gran explained. “Bert was the skipper. He liked that run but I think he spent too much time in the hotels in Cooktown.”
She tapped another photo showing two men in 1950’s tropical business clothes: Panama hats, long-sleeved shirts with ties, long trousers, polished leather shoes. “That is Johnston, and the man with him is Bert,” she said.
Andrew wasn’t interested in the business details but was amused to see his own father’s baby photo. He knew his father’s full name was Cuthbert and that he was secretly ashamed of it, thinking it was silly sort of name. Like his father before him he was usually called Bert. There were other baby photos. Gran named them and provided dates. “This is your Aunty Bev,” she said.
“We know Gran,” Carmen said. “We stayed with her and Uncle Mel in January.”
“Of course you did dearie. How silly of me to forget. And this one is Evaline. She married an American so I never see her.”
Both Andrew and Carmen bent closer to look. Carmen shook her head and said, “She is really beautiful Gran.” Andrew could only agree. Gran snorted and said, with a twinkle in her eye, “Your good looks come from your mother’s side of the family.”
“Oh, they do not!” Andrew’s father cried indignantly. “You were the beauty Mum.”
At that Gran smiled and patted his arm. She then looked back to the album and turned the next page. The next picture was a pearling lugger. “The Pearl Reef,” Gran said. “That’s when he and Murchison went off trying to make their fortunes. Nearly sent us broke that boat.”
Two pictures side by side showed the crew of the lugger and the two divers. To Andrew’s surprise the crew of the lugger were all black men- Torres Strait Islanders. ‘Francis Sailboat’ said a pencilled note on the back.
The next photo was the one Andrew had seen at Old Mr Murchison’s. It was also on the Pearl Reef but showed all five men at once. As he remembered how Old Mr Murchison had reacted Andrew looked up and met Carmen’s eyes, but all he said was, “That is the photo we saw the other day.”
An excellent full length photo of Bert in his diver’s suit and holding the big brass helmet was next. Gran looked at it and shook her head. “Oh silly man! I don’t know how he could do that, going down in that ocean among all those octopusses and giant clams and whatall.”
Carmen laughed. “Oh Gran, it’s not that bad! We went diving the other day and it was fun.”
Andrew didn’t agree but remained silent. In his mind he agreed with Gran, particularly about the ‘whatall’. ‘I wish I hadn’t allowed myself to be talked into it!’ he thought.
There was then another picture of the tug Wallaman Falls, this time executing a sharp turn in Trinity Inlet. Two more photos followed, showing some sort of barge being towed. Another picture was of a large cargo ship apparently stuck on a sandbar. “Their first salvage job,” Gran explained. There were a dozen small photos of rope and anchor arrangements for towing or hauling, then one taken on a wharf in Smiths Creek. In the foreground were Bert and another man looking at a large cylindrical object. In the background were two Torres Strait Islanders standing on the deck of a small ship, ready to hoist the object up with a derrick.
That was the last photo. After that there were just blank black pages. Gran bit her lip and looked at them, then closed the album. “That was the last one ever taken. That is him and Murchison about to head off to look for the Merinda.”
There was silence. Andrew saw that Gran’s lower lip was quivering and he regretted asking her to explain the photos. Then a tear trickled down Gran’s cheek and Andrew bit his lip. Carmen leaned forward and hugged her.
CHAPTER 5
HOPES AND FEARS
That night Andrew had another diving nightmare. This time he dreamt he was down on the bottom of the sea in an old-fashioned diving suit. Something was wrong but he did not know what it was. It cost him an enormous effort to peer through the tiny glass portholes in the big brass helmet but all he could see were gloomy blue shadows. His fears grew, exacerbated by the rasping sound of his own breathing and the hiss of escaping air. Then he realized he could not move his right foot. By making a huge effort he was able to bend his body enough to look down. To his horror he saw that his right boot was firmly gripped by the jaws of a giant clam. In a desperate effort to get free he tugged at the rope to tell the men on the lugger to pull him up. They tried and tried but to no avail. By then Andrew was perspiring freely and on the edge of panic. Then he heard a peculiar hissing and gurgling noise and saw that his rubber air hose had come off and was drifting away. Before he could grab the hose it was out of reach.
‘Cover the inlet!’ his terrified mind cried, but his groping hands could not seem to find this. Water began to spurt and swirl into the helmet, stinging his eyes. In d
esperation he tried to block the flow- to no avail. He struggled frantically but the water rose above his mouth and nose, choking him.
Andrew woke up, bathed in sweat and with his blankets wrapped tightly around him. “Oh! Thank God!” he muttered, as he realized it was only a nightmare. For the next hour he lay awake, trying to will himself to think nice thoughts, about Muriel, or even about Letitia- but with limited success. The horror of the deep was upon him.
With it was the nagging fear that he still had those three dives to do, and no reasonable excuse to chicken out. ‘How will I ever face them?’ he wondered miserably.
Somehow he drifted off into a restless sleep, to wake feeling tired and drained. He took himself off to school, feeling deeply troubled. ‘Am I a coward?’ he wondered miserably. In an effort to drive all thoughts of diving out of his mind he concentrated on his school work and on being social with his friends.
But despite his efforts he found his mind continually returning to diving. During the lunch break he took himself to the library and did some reading up on the Second World War in the Pacific. It was an eye-opener to him, especially learning about the ferocious naval battles in the Coral Sea and among the Solomon Islands. That huge fleets of warships, even mighty Battleships, had clashed in vicious, close-range night battles off Guadalcanal really stirred his imagination.
The ‘Internet’ gave more information, then led him straight back to diving. Before he thought about it not being a good idea he had clicked on a site titled ‘Sunken Glory of Ironbottom Sound’. It was about divers exploring the wrecks of some of the warships sunk in that infamous strip of water. Seeing the barnacle and coral encrusted wrecks in colour both fascinated and alarmed him.
There was an article about an American transport, the President Coolidge, which had struck a mine in 1942 off the entrance to Luganville Harbour, Vanuatu. The wreck was in quite shallow water but just looking at the pictures made Andrew feel uneasy. Some of the photos showed divers right inside the huge ship: looking at the gauges in the engine room, and down in the hold.
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