“Come on Cadet Williams, move forward,” Flying Officer Turnbull ordered.
But now Willy did not want to lose sight of the almost microscopic shape. Was it a man, or just a trick of the light? Or maybe just blurred vision from staring out for so long? ‘No, they look like legs and that is an arm,’ he decided. “Sir, come and look!” he called, gesturing urgently.
“What?” Flying Officer Turnbull called back irritably, but he moved to look. His gaze followed Willy’s pointing finger.
By now Willy was getting anxious. The tiny shape was becoming very hard to see and he still wasn’t sure it actually was man. “Sir, I can see a man swimming in the sea.”
“Swimming in the sea!” Flying Officer Turnbull cried, half incredulously.
“Yes sir. A man. Back there.” Willy pointed but now felt very anxious because he could no longer see the tiny shape. It was, he knew, slipping astern of them at a rate of about a mile and half a minute and was now at least three miles back and invisible to his eyes.
“Way out here? Are you sure?”
Willy was feeling torn and upset by this. The thought of a person being out there in the sea, that far from land, made him feel sick. ‘A person would only be there if something had gone wrong,’ he thought. The coast was fifteen miles away and the nearest island at least five. “Yes sir. Oh please sir, tell the pilot. We must go back and look.”
Flying Officer Turnbull frowned and hesitated. Willy felt so anxious that he overcame his normal reticence in the presence of an officer. “Please sir! I did see something. If I am wrong then we will only waste some petrol, but if it is a person and we leave them to drown I will never sleep again.”
“Oh alright,” Flying Officer Turnbull replied reluctantly. He spoke into the intercom. The conversation seemed to take forever and all the time Willy kept staring back trying to fix the point in his mind in relation to some big coral reefs he could see off astern to starboard. After looking doubtfully at Willy and nodding Flying Officer Turnbull turned to him and said, “The pilot said go to the cockpit.”
“Yes sir,” Willy replied, almost gasping his relief. That meant he had to take his eyes off the area of now distant ocean but he thought he could locate it again. As quickly as he could he scrambled past Finlay and the others who were waiting and made his way along the central aisle to the working part of the plane. The cadets and officers seated there all looked at him curiously, not knowing what was happening. Stick raised an eyebrow in query and Marjorie asked what was wrong but he just shook his head and went on.
‘No time for explanations,’ Willy told himself. As he made his way forward Willy began to have severe doubts about whether he actually had seen a person. Memories of how hard it had been to identify the whales rose to make him uncertain. ‘They are huge,’ he thought, ‘much larger than a human being.’
“But we must check,” he muttered.
He made his way along the narrow corridor past the crew’s sleeping accommodation, galley and radio room and then up the short set of steps to the flight deck. As he reached a position just behind and between the two pilot’s seats Willy paused. This was where he really wanted to be. His burning ambition was to be a pilot and for a few seconds his eyes ran over the controls and instruments, taking in the whole scene. Then his eyes met those of the pilot.
Mr Southall was in his sixties, short grey hair and a firm, tanned face with bright blue eyes. He lifted one earphone free of his right ear and leaned back. “Tell me what you saw,” he said.
Willy swallowed out of nervousness. “Sir, I thought I saw a man in the sea.”
“Are you sure?”
Willy wanted to say yes but shook his head. “No sir. It might not have been a man, but I thought I saw legs and arms.”
For a few seconds Mr Southall looked thoughtful. “OK, that’s good enough for me. Take her back Frank.”
Frank, Mr Lacey, the co-pilot, Willy remembered: middle-aged and black hair, nodded and at once set the aircraft into a descending turn. As the plane came round Willy felt even more relieved. But he was still scared, afraid they might not find the person in all that sea, and also anxious it might all be a wild goose chase.
Mr Southall held up his chart. “Any idea where you saw him?”
Willy nodded and moved closer, holding up his own chart on which his left thumb was firmly gripping the place. The navigator leaned over his right shoulder to look. Willy put his finger on the chart. “Just west of this un-named reef between Hedge Reef and Lytton Reef,” he said.
Mr Southall nodded and met the navigator’s eyes. “Give us a fix George, and the magnetic reciprocal bearing,” he said. Next he turned to the co-pilot and said, “Take her down to a thousand feet Frank.” He then began to push buttons on an instrument.
Willy thought this was a GPS but wasn’t sure. The navigator did a quick calculation using a pencil on his chart and said, “Reciprocal is one five three degrees magnetic.”
“Roger, one five three degrees magnetic,” the co-pilot echoed.
As the pilot’s hands moved the control column Willy watched. He knew which instrument was the compass and he could see the figures moving around as the plane turned. Having been an air cadet for over a year he could also identify some of the other gauges and instruments. As the plane settled on a reciprocal bearing he looked these over. Even with his limited experience he sensed that the instruments were a curious mix of old and new. It wasn’t one of the new computerized ‘glass cockpits’ but there were a few little gadgets with quartz crystal displays that looked very modern.
Then he moved his gaze upwards and looked out through the front windows. At first he was disoriented and had to make a conscious effort to find things that he could identify on the chart. A couple of small islands helped. ‘That must be Fife Island,’ he decided. ‘And the one over to the south west of it is Hay Island.’ That got him looking in the right direction and he quickly made out the large brownish shape of Noddy Reef and then the even bigger Magpie Reef.
Willy was appalled at how far they had traveled since he first thought he had seen the man. ‘More than thirty kilometers!’ he calculated. Then he shook his head. ‘I am in an aircraft, and old American one at that. I should be calculating distance in Nautical Miles. Let’s see, that would be about… Hmm….about fifteen nautical miles.’
From that he worked out they would be back in the area in about seven minutes. ‘Not long,’ he thought, until he remembered how hard it was to swim for any length of time. ‘I hope he’s got a lifejacket,’ he thought, before adding, ‘if I really did see a man!’
Even as he worked all this out the ‘Catalina’ covered the distance from Noddy Reef to Magpie Reef and Willy clearly identified Lytton Reef ahead. ‘Not far now,’ he thought anxiously.
Mr Southall turned from scanning ahead with binoculars and said, “What’s your name son?”
“Willy sir, Willy Williams, I mean Leading Cadet Williams.”
“Williams eh? Any relation to Group Captain Freddy Williams?” Mr Southall asked.
Willy shook his head. “Not that I know of sir. Both my parents are doctors,” he replied. He found it hard to carry on polite talk when all he wanted to do was look outside. To his relief Mr Southall nodded and also turned to look.
The ‘Catalina’ flew quickly over Lytton Reef and then out over a stretch of open deep water about seven miles wide between it and the end of the odd shaped reef. ‘It was in this area,’ he thought as the western end of the odd shaped reef drew closer. He began to peer out anxiously, appalled at how much the surface of the sea was ruffled by tiny white wave tops. ‘Oh dear! This might be harder than I thought,’ he realized. Now he regretted ever taking his eyes off the tiny shape.
They reached western end of the reef and the navigator passed over the bearings and timings for a square search pattern. The plane went into a gentle bank to starboard and then steadied on a run west. Willy moved to behind the pilot so that he had a clearer view.
Nothing. M
r Southall took the controls and turned the plane south for five minutes, then back east. Still nothing. Willy began to feel both anxious and very foolish. They turned north and headed back towards the western end of the odd-shaped reef. “This is the area where we saw the whales,” Mr Southall said.
Willy stared down at the ripples and mottled blue surface of the ocean and felt slightly sick. There was no sign of the whales. ‘If we can’t find a dozen huge whales what chance do we have of finding anything as tiny as man?’ he wondered.
And then he saw him.
It was a man!
And he was waving at them.
“There!” Willy cried, pointing down off the port bow. “It is a man.”
“Got him!” Mr Southall answered.
A huge wave of relief surged through Willy and he smiled. Then he went stiff with worry. ‘What is that in the water near him?’ he thought.
Just as his own mind registered the concern Mr Southall focused his binoculars on the tiny shape and said, “That’s a bloody great shark in the water near him!”
CHAPTER 2
A GHASTLY MESS
Willy gasped in horror. “Oh! A shark! Quick! Land! We must save him!” he cried.
Mr Southall now had the ‘Catalina’ in a steep bank. The plane slid down towards the water and he stared out the window before easing the controls and levelling out a couple of hundred feet above the sea. As he took the aircraft around in a wide, gentle turn Mr Southall said, “There’s a second man there.”
The co-pilot nodded and said, “I see him.”
Willy hadn’t but the tone of the men’s voices bothered him and he peered anxiously out. Then his eyes detected the second man and he realized why he hadn’t seen him earlier. The man was floating face down about fifty metres from the first and even at that height Willy felt sure he was dead. Worse still there was another shark there, and it appeared to be tearing at the man’s left leg. Willy distinctly saw what looked like murky pink streamers trailing from the body.
The sight made him want to retch but it also made him cry out again. “Sir, quick! We must land and save that other man before those sharks attack him.”
Mr Southall appeared not to hear him. He kept the plane turning so that he could see both men out the port window but he made no attempt to land. Flying Officer Turnbull came and stood between him and the co-pilot and looked out.
“Sir!” pleaded Willy. “We must land. We have to save him!”
Mr Southall turned his head and Willy saw his jaw was set hard. He gave a slight shake of the head and said, “It’s not just his life young Willy. There are twenty lives in this plane and if I muck things up then they could be lost too.”
Willy had dimly known that but now he recognized the terrible weight of responsibility thrust onto the pilot. Whatever he did risked peoples’ lives. “Can’t we land sir?” he asked, swallowing to keep his stomach under control. He could still see the smaller shark gnawing and ripping at the floating corpse.
Mr Southall gestured with his left hand. “The sea is pretty rough. If we hit it hard or wrong the plane could plough under or, worse still, tip a wingtip and cartwheel. Even if we get down safely we may not be able to get off again.”
“But we could save that man if we did get down?” Willy pressed. He felt very personally involved in saving the man’s life and a sense of frustrated desperation was growing.
“Yes. But it’s a real risk,” Mr Southall answered. Willy knew that he had once been a squadron leader in the air force and also a civil airline pilot who had flown the big ‘Sandringham’ flying boats from Sydney to Lord Howe Island and Norfolk Island back in the days when such planes were in service. ‘He has a lot of experience of flying seaplanes, and I don’t,’ he thought ruefully. He could see that Mr Southall was torn and felt sorry for him.
Mr Southall kept the ‘Catalina’ circling. Flying that low meant a fair amount of turbulence but Willy barely noticed. He was just aware that Mr Southall was flying the aircraft with unconscious skill. Willy saw that the big shark was also interested in the body of the dead man but it wasn’t far from the man in the water. ‘Poor bugger!’ he thought. ‘He can see us and thinks he is saved, and he must be able to see those sharks. He must be terrified!’
Flying Officer Turnbull spoke next. “We must think of the cadets and their safety first,” he said.
That annoyed and sickened Willy. ‘Is he saying that because he is scared, or is he really concerned about us?’ he thought unkindly.
Flying Officer Turnbull then said, “We can radio a ship and it can come and pick him up.”
“Sir! That could take hours. That man hasn’t got a life jacket, and anyway that big shark could attack him at any moment,” Willy cried.
“Drop him a raft then,” Flying Officer Turnbull suggested. “Do you have an inflatable raft Mr Southall?”
“We have several and we will use one,” Mr Southall replied.
That, to Willy, was a poor second, but better than nothing. He was now feeling almost nauseous with anxiety and apprehension. To be able to see the poor man and the huge shark and be aware that at any moment he might have to watch him being torn to bits!
Mr Southall then said to the navigator, “What is the wind?”
“From the South East Ivan, varying from fifteen knots to twenty knots,” the navigator replied.
“So, that gives a wave height of about a metre and half to two metres,” Mr Southall answered.
The co-pilot answered. “Yes, but in the lee of the reef it should be a good deal less.”
“That’s what I thought,” Mr Southall answered. He spoke into his microphone on the intercom and Willy realized he was talking to the flight engineer down in the cabin. Then he turned and said, “OK we will try it. George, you radio the position and situation at once and then get the inflatable dinghy ready. Frank, go down and make sure all the cadets are securely strapped in and wearing life jackets.”
At that Willy sighed with relief. “Oh hurry please!” he cried.
Mr Southall turned to him, “I will go as fast as it is safe to go, now get me a lifejacket and then you strap yourself into that dicky seat there after you put a lifejacket on.”
Willy nearly cried with relief. He reached down and extracted two lifejackets from under the seat. Before the flight they had been shown where the lifejackets were stowed and how to put them on as part of the safety brief. Now it thrilled him to watch as the pilot pulled his over his head. By then the co-pilot, navigator and Flying Officer Turnbull had all gone below. Willy tugged the lifejacket over his head and tied the straps around his waist. Doing that gave him a sick feeling of worry but it was nothing to the tense apprehension he felt as they yet again went round in a big circle.
Just behind the pilot was a small folding seat and he pushed it down until it locked into position. Then he seated himself and buckled on the seat belt. The co-pilot came back and pulled on a lifejacket, then took over the controls while Mr Southall did his jacket up. All this took more minutes and with every passing second Willy felt he would explode with anxiety.
Only when he was satisfied that all the cadets were securely seated and wearing life jackets and that the inflatable rafts were ready for instant use did Mr Southall take control again. Willy watched from close behind him with fascinated interest which partly over-rode the apprehension. Mr Southall took the aircraft well away to the North West until they were several miles from the reef and the man. As he did this he told Willy to make sure he kept the man in sight the whole time. Willy kept looking back as though his own life depended on it, until the man’s head was just a tiny pinhead all but lost in the ripples and whitecaps. As the aircraft flew away from the area the flaps were fully extended and Willy saw the small floats on the port wingtip lowered ready for landing.
Mr Southall brought the aircraft around to the left in a curve so tight that it surprised Willy and pressed him into his seat with the G forces. Then the plane levelled out and Mr Southall said, “OK Will
y, where is he?”
“Almost dead ahead,” Willy answered, then felt ill at the real meaning of those words.
“Got him! Good, OK here we go,” Mr Southall answered. “Keep watching please, as we shall probably overshoot him.”
Willy stared through the front as the aircraft slowly lost altitude. The changing view surprised and worried him. At the start the odd-shaped reef was plainly visible but as they came lower it was lost among the endless ripples of the waves. Then the horizon seemed to change and he distinctly saw it become a jagged line of tiny wave tops. His intellect told him that was because as they came lower their range of visibility became shorter and shorter.
‘The horizon is about three nautical miles for a person standing on a beach?’ he thought, remembering something he had read. But now it was confusing. All he was sure of was that the man’s head kept vanishing in the wave troughs as they got lower. There was also an impression of things speeding up but that, he knew, was simply because they were much closer to the sea. A glance at the altimeter told him they were actually descending steadily from 200 feet to 100 feet.
‘Gosh! The waves do look big,’ Willy thought. He could not see Mr Southall’s face but a glance at the co-pilot showed a set jaw and lines of worry on his face.
The plane rocked and bumped through a layer of disturbed air and Mr Southall automatically corrected. Willy kept staring at the man’s head and now saw a waving arm. They were close now and seemed to rush towards him. He even thought he glimpsed the dreaded triangular fin of the big shark but later wasn’t sure if it hadn’t just been a wave top. He noted that Mr Southall was aiming to land with the man just off the port bow.
Throttles were eased. The aircraft rocked and seemed to float as its nose was lifted slightly. Willy tensed and for the first time felt a prickle of concern that he might be in some danger himself. Then the man went by close underneath, his upturned face and open mouth clearly visible. That got Willy very anxious and he leaned sideways and craned his head to look back through the small space available to him. Glances ahead showed the horizon looking even more jagged and closer and then he saw a distinct line of white in the distance and a sort of smear. He realized the white was the surf breaking on the far side of the odd-shaped reef.
Coasts of Cape York Page 2