by JH Fletcher
It took him the best part of the day and he was soaked with sweat and damn near exhausted by the time he stumbled on it. He was lucky to have found it at all. He had given up and was making his way downhill again when he spotted the unmistakable entrance to an adit with the chisel marks plain upon the rock.
‘Beauty!’
And then to find the tunnel blocked …
Not that surprising, after all. By the look of it, the tunnel could be a hundred years old, at least. He had brought a flashlight with him; he played it on the fallen rock and pressed with the flat of his hand, pushing as hard as he could. He reckoned it wouldn’t be that much of a job to hack his way through, if he brought a shovel up here. He had a good look at the roof; that was where the danger would lie. If there was any danger. Some tree roots had forced their way down from above. It was probably them that had caused the original fall but it didn’t look as though anything had come down recently and there were no signs of cracking anywhere else. It would probably be safe enough. He’d come back tomorrow. Bring a shovel and see what he could do.
He did exactly that. Knowing which way to go made things a lot easier. His muscles were stiff from the previous day’s climb but things weren’t too bad, once he got moving. He saw no one; just as well — the last thing he needed was someone spotting him with a shovel in his hand. Not that there was likely to be anything to find, but if he’d learnt anything in his life it was that nothing was ever sure in mining. There might be nothing. Probably there was nothing. On the other hand …
One way to find out.
He’d brought a gas lantern with him. In its hard, white light he examined the compacted rock. As he’d thought: it was pretty loose. He didn’t think it would take much to shift it.
He got to work, keeping a watchful eye on the roof, and made good progress. The pile of loose stone grew as he drove deeper into the fall. Eventually his miner’s instinct warned that the critical moment had arrived. He drove the shovel hard into the curtain of stone and stepped back. There was a creak, a sigh and the whole lot came crashing down in a billowing cloud of tan-coloured dust.
He waited for the air to clear then took a look at what he’d found. He had cut a hole clear through the fall, but what lay beyond was impossible to see. He did another check on the roof. It hadn’t shifted. Okay. He took the shovel and his spotlight and eased himself through the opening. He straightened and looked around him. The tunnel continued around a corner and out of sight. The air was not exactly fresh, but would do.
He followed the tunnel, checking the walls periodically for traces of minerals, but found nothing. There were no side workings. He walked on slowly, checking the floor, the walls, the roof. Still nothing. Another bend and he came across a second tunnel leading off to the right. He stood at the entrance, undecided which way to go, then thought he could detect a movement of air in the second tunnel. It was enough to make up his mind for him. He headed that way; the air grew steadily fresher until at last he came back into daylight. After the darkness, the sunshine dazzled him. Squinting, he saw that a ledge ran off around the rock face to his left. Beneath him, a precipice fell vertically into the trees. He’d come this far, he might as well find out where the ledge went. Carefully he worked his way along it, rounded the corner and came to a gallery extending beneath a stone overhang.
He stopped, staring at what he had discovered.
‘Bloody hell!’
4
Frances and Betty went up into the forest to fossick for bits and pieces for the stall. Jacqui went with them but this time John stayed behind. Rugby league was next to God in this part of the world and there was a practice he wouldn’t have missed for quids.
They were on the fringe of the forest when they saw someone coming down through the trees towards them with what looked like a shovel in his hand. Either by chance or deliberately, the man disappeared almost at once but not before Jacqui had taken a good look at him.
‘That’s Luke Shaughnessy!’
Frances frowned. ‘Are you sure?’
Of course she was sure. She wished she wasn’t. Luke Shaughnessy had as much right to be here as they did, but seeing him made her uneasy: she didn’t think he was the sort to climb mountains for fun. What had he been up to?
‘No business of ours,’ Frances said.
Jacqui wasn’t so sure. She split, leaving the two women poking around in the undergrowth for herbs and leaves. As quickly as she could, she climbed up through the trees towards the mine entrance. She was familiar with the ground now, and found the tunnel without any drama.
At first sight nothing had changed. Greatly daring, she stuck her nose inside the tunnel. In the sunlight shining through the entrance she saw that her first impression had been wrong and that things had indeed changed substantially.
She stared at the newly cleared opening in the rockfall, the pile of stone to one side. She did not know what it meant. Perhaps nothing, but it gave her a bad feeling. Luke Shaughnessy had opened up the tunnel, that was obvious. Why? Brett was bad news but everyone said that his dad was ten times worse. Whatever he had been doing here, it could only be something bad.
She went back down the mountain, not knowing whether to say anything or not. She was frightened both of doing the wrong thing and of failing to do what she should.
Judy would know, she thought, but that would mean telling her about their climb up the mountain. And the tunnel. Hear about that and she might stop them from going again. Grown-ups, even Judy, lived in a different world from kids. You could never tell what they might do next. No, if there was anything to be done, she and John would have to do it themselves.
As soon as they got back, she went looking for John. Practice was over and she told him how she’d seen Brett’s dad on the mountain with a shovel in his hand.
John had not had a good practice and was in a bad mood. He said so what, the mountain was open to everyone, wasn’t it, but when she told him that a hole had been opened up through the rock he changed his tune.
‘Beauty! That means we’ll be able to have a look for ourselves. Maybe there’s something in there after all.’
Jacqui had a horrible feeling that he was right. Grown-ups might live in a different world but they knew things and, if Luke Shaughnessy had started to open up the mine, it probably meant there was something there to find. She hated the idea. She also didn’t see the point of poking around inside an old tunnel: she knew what snakes and spiders looked like without going hunting for them in the dark.
‘There may be gold there,’ said John, his imagination running riot. ‘Jewels …’
The tunnel might be packed to the roof with treasure; the thought did nothing for Jacqui. She didn’t think being rich would make her any happier. On the contrary, the idea scared her. If there really was gold inside the mountain, what would happen to the Cloud Forest? Gold would mean miners, machinery, roadways, buildings … The mountain would be ruined.
I’d like to blow it up, she thought. Get rid of it forever. It was stupid — she wouldn’t have a clue how to go about it — but it didn’t stop her thinking it.
‘We could go and have a look, I suppose,’ she told John.
If she knew what was going on she might find a way of stopping it. Whatever it might be.
She would not let herself think about spiders.
5
‘I don’t believe what you’re telling me.’ Warren was fit to be tied; worse, he seemed willing to blame Luke for it. ‘Bloody paintings?’
‘Abo junk, that’s all it was.’ Luke couldn’t understand why Warren was getting his knickers in such a knot.
‘Set you on fire you’d think it was a warm day, wouldn’t you? Don’t you understand anything? You ever heard of a bloke called Josh Richards?’
The name meant nothing to Luke.
‘An Aborigine. One of those activist blokes. He’s been stirring trouble all down the coast.’
‘Doing what?’
‘The usual stuff. Yelling about la
nd rights, Native Title … He gets the word there’s Aboriginal paintings up there, he’ll slap a land claim on that mountain so fast it’ll make your head spin.’
‘Bloody hell!’ The penny had finally dropped; as always with Luke, the clang jarred his teeth. ‘What about my mine?’
‘Who cares about the bloody mine? Someone will have hoicked out all the gold years ago, if there was ever any to find. What about Rainforest Rendezvous? We’ve got everything lined up to make it the biggest thing in North Queensland. There’s surveyors and builders standing by, all on retainers. I’ve an architect drawing up plans, engineers contracted to do a feasibility study on the roads we’ll need, the cable car track, the heli landing pad. There’s even a bloke looking at ways of putting in a driving range up there, tennis courts, real five-star living. I’ve had to square a couple of pollies down in Brisbane. You know what that means, don’t you?’ Warren rubbed a furious finger and thumb below Luke’s nose. ‘It means money! A ton of bloody money! I’m in up to my neck and now you tell me you’ve found a gallery of Abo paintings up there some place? Why the hell couldn’t you leave that bloody shaft alone?’
‘An adit,’ Luke the miner said. ‘Not a shaft.’
‘I don’t give a damn what you call it! I want you to lose it, hear me? I want it out of my life!’
‘How’m I supposed to lose a mine?’
‘Close it up again!’
‘Can’t do that, not without concrete. Take quite a lot, though, and I don’t know how you’d get it up there —’
Warren took a deep breath. ‘You told me the ceiling came down once. Right? What’s to stop it coming down a second time, eh? Maybe with a bit of help?’
‘Dunno ’bout that …’ Luke’s instincts rebelled against closing a mine that might still have something in it.
‘Find out!’
Luke hated it when his brother came on like this. Give him a knuckle sandwich, one of these days … He’d said it a dozen times but somehow the day had never come.
In the meantime Warren was wearing his killing look. ‘Listen to me, right? If you’re planning on staying in these parts, you’d better lose that mine. I don’t care how you do it. I don’t want to know. Just do it, okay? We’re looking at millions here. If I lose out because you’ve been playing games in some bloody mine shaft, you’ll be heading back to WA before you can wipe your arse. Got it?’
Luke got it, all right. The trouble was, what Warren was saying made no sense. He’d heard about some bloke who’d lost a tank in some war. That had been mad enough, but a mine …
He’d better keep quiet about it, all the same. Then thought: explosives …
Hadn’t Johnno once told him he worked in the quarry?
6
‘I was down in Brisbane for a couple of days.’
Bernie Young sat on Arthur’s verandah. He stuck his nose into his glass and slurped contentedly; Arthur usually drank from the bottle, but Bernie said he couldn’t enjoy beer if he couldn’t smell it.
Arthur looked at the velvet darkness. Lights gleamed; somewhere a mopoke called softly; the sibilance of cicadas papered the night.
‘A good while since I was there,’ Arthur said. Not that he missed it, or any city for that matter.
‘You should do it more often. Amazing the things you hear.’
Arthur told himself to be patient. Goorapilly born and bred, Bernie liked to take his time telling things but he’d get to the point eventually.
For a while longer the conversation meandered, as slow and torpid as a tropical stream.
At last Bernie got to it.
‘People in Brisbane are talking about some big development on the go up here.’
It was news to Arthur. ‘In Goorapilly? Who’s supposed to be behind it?’
‘What I heard, Warren and Harley.’
That figured. ‘What sort of development?’
‘A resort. Slap on top of the mountain.’
It didn’t sound very likely. ‘How do they plan to get people up there?’
‘First thing I asked. But it seems it’s all arranged: roads, walkways through the canopy, cable cars, the lot. Management contracts: they say Resorts International will be running it. A really big deal, by the sound of it.’
‘Muck up the mountain, won’t it?’
Bernie Young, professional cynic, laughed. ‘You don’t think they care about that, do you?’
‘They will if they don’t get permission.’
‘Get enough money behind you, permission isn’t hard. Politicians talk conservation, but jobs and money are all they really care about. It’s all most people care about.’
‘I doubt my grandfather would have thought much of it,’ Arthur said. ‘My wife either, come to that.’
‘And you? What do you think?’
‘I’m against it too, I suppose. People say this sort of thing’s good for the area. I wonder whether it is. Sure, it creates jobs. But it changes the character of the place.’
‘Would that be such a loss?’
‘I think so. I don’t like to think of a world with no room for Cloud Forests. I’m not sure it would be a world worth having.’
‘I doubt many people would care, though,’ Bernie said.
Arthur remembered what his sister Bella had told him all those years ago: Reckon I’m gunna waste my life checking out a bunch of trees?
‘I’m very much afraid you’re right.’
Bernie beamed his cynical grin. ‘You’ll come out against it, will you? Wave your banner, march up and down, that sort of thing?’
Arthur slugged his beer. ‘I doubt it very much,’ he said.
7
Arthur told Judy what Bernie had said. Her reaction was immediate, and violent.
‘Develop the mountain? How can they think of doing such a thing?’
‘They’ve got permission, apparently.’
‘I’m not talking about permission. It’s desecration. Scandalous. We have to stop it.’
‘Nothing we can do,’ Arthur told her. ‘So long as they’re acting within the law. It’s no more than rumour, in any case.’
‘Then now’s the time to stop it. Afterwards it’ll be too late.’
‘How do you plan to do that?’
Arthur’s patient smile made her mad. ‘A petition. A delegation to our local MP. Get the media on our side. Do something …’
‘This is a high unemployment area,’ he said. ‘Jobs and profit make a powerful combination.’
‘If I wanted to live in a development area, I’d move to Sydney. Why do we have to wreck everything for so-called progress?’
‘Jobs, money —’
‘What about quality of life? What happened to beauty and peace?’
‘Peace is what we carry inside us. No development can affect that.’
‘Of course it can! How can we hope for peace without the right environment? We need places like Cloud Forest for our souls’ good.’
‘It’s the way the world is.’
‘Then we have to change the world.’
Arthur suspected that changing human nature might be beyond them. ‘I doubt we can do that.’
8
‘We need to go and check out what Brett’s dad’s been up to,’ Jacqui told John Munda.
‘I’ve been saying that all along,’ John said indignantly. ‘You said so, too. Then you changed your mind.’
Because the thought of spiders had put her off. Now she’d decided it was a price she would have to pay. ‘I’ve changed it back again.’
‘Girls …’ John said.
It was holiday time, so it wouldn’t be hard to slip away.
‘What if Mr Shaughnessy catches us up there?’
‘He’ll be working. Dunno about Brett, though.’
‘Soon run him off, if he is.’ Since their punch-up outside Pokies Paradise, John had become contemptuous of Brett.
THIRTY-THREE
1
‘I’m going for a walk,’ Jacqui said after breakfa
st the following morning.
‘Where are you going?’
Jacqui knew that Judy was asking for form’s sake, her mind already on a project for next term.
‘Round about.’
‘Be careful.’
‘Of course …’
And went straight to the forest, where John was waiting for her.
‘No dramas?’
‘Nah.’
They began to climb. It didn’t take them long; this part of the mountain was getting to be as familiar to them as the road home from school.
Jacqui told herself she had nothing to be nervous about, then she saw the mouth of the tunnel between the leaves and wasn’t so sure. It looked dark and mysterious, altogether horrible. She shivered. ‘There could be all sorts of things in there. Dead bodies. Trolls …’
Spiders.
‘You chickening out?’
She put on her indignant face. ‘Course I’m not chickening out! I just want you to know the risks, that’s all. In case you get frightened of a mouse, or something, and I have to protect you.’
Or a king brown.
‘Let’s go and take a look,’ John said. ‘You bring a torch?’
‘Course I brought a torch! I wouldn’t forget that, would I?’
Although in truth she nearly had.
There was no one there. No one they could see.
‘There could be ghosts,’ John said. ‘Miners trapped when the roof came down.’
In which case … They’d still be there.
‘Was Mr Shaughnessy running when you saw him?’
She didn’t want to think about it, for fear of what he might have been running from. ‘Maybe hurrying a bit …’
‘Ghosts,’ said John confidently.
There were times when Jacqui thought it wouldn’t take much to turn her right off John Munda.
‘I don’t believe in ghosts,’ she said fiercely but took care not to speak too loudly, in case the ghosts heard her.