Coasts of Cape York

by Christopher Cummings

  But they were obviously progressing. Several times Willy got glimpses back through the canopy of open fields and even of a distant farm house. That allowed him to judge their height. A view upwards that showed a ridge top almost at the same level cheered him even more. With experience they all began to find it easier, if not more enjoyable. They even dealt with the leeches more effectively.

  Another heavy shower of rain swept across, the rain drops hammering on the leaves so loudly they had to almost shout to make themselves heard. This time Willy left his raincoat off. ‘I’m soaked from sweat anyway,’ he rationalized.

  To his relief none of the others made any comment and only Tina put hers on again. The upward slog was resumed. 1:00 pm came and went, then 2:00 pm. By then Peter announced them to be more than two thirds of the way to the top.

  Graham looked up the slope. “I was hoping we would have been at the top by now,” he grumbled.

  Stephen took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief he had kept dry in a plastic bag. “We would have been if it was just us,” he said.

  The implication that it was the air cadets and navy cadets that had slowed them down annoyed Willy but before he could reply Carmen snapped angrily, “I hope you aren’t suggesting it was because we are girls that we took so long?”

  Stephen did not reply but gave a lopsided grin. This annoyed Carmen even more. “I don’t know why you even came,” she said. She looked hot and annoyed.

  “Neither do I,” Graham replied. He looked at his watch and said, “Time we started back anyway Steve.”

  “Well, goodbye then!” Carmen cried.

  “I hope you regret it when we find the plane wreck,” Stick added.

  Graham looked embarrassed but Stephen scowled. The pair muttered goodbye and turned to make their way back down the mountain. Marjorie then made things worse by calling after them, “And you’d better work out which girl it is you like or you will both end up with none!”

  Stephen’s response was to shake his head but Graham just hunched his shoulders and hurried on down the slope. Within seconds they were both lost to sight and before a minute had elapsed Willy could no longer hear them either. For a few moments the friends looked at each other as though unsure what to do or say. Peter ended this by taking control. “Come on Roger, get up that hill,” he said.

  Roger nodded and started up the slope. The others followed. As they did another heavy shower of rain swept across the valley and then deluged the mountain. Willy heard it coming, the rain falling so hard on the tree canopy that it was a roar.

  “I hope their party gets washed out,” Marjorie said.

  Carmen shook her head. “Don’t say that. It is a party for all the people at the mill. It will disappoint all the little kids if it is wet.”

  Andrew mopped sweat from his face. “I wouldn’t want to be dressed as Santa Claus in this weather,” he added.

  “My word no!” Stick agreed. “It is certainly tropical.”

  For half an hour the rain poured down but it did not seem to cool them much. Peter kept them moving and that kept them hot and sweaty. By then Willy agreed with the army cadets: a raincoat would just make it even worse. ‘At least this way the sweat gets rinsed out of my shirt,’ he mused.

  After the rain came the sun. The clouds went away as though a giant had rolled them up and the afternoon sun struck down with tropical force. So hot did it become that the jungle did begin to ‘steam’. Through gaps in the trees Willy saw wisps of condensing cloud drifting upwards from the damp jungle. Perversely he realized he was thirsty. After another big drink he noted that he had now emptied the two water bottles on his belt.

  ‘I only have the two litre container in my pack,’ he thought, vaguely aware that shortage of water might become a problem.

  In fact it developed into a crisis fairly quickly as Marjorie announced that she had drunk the last of her water. Peter looked at her in astonishment. “Haven’t you got more in your pack like we told you to have?” he asked.

  “Sorry, no,” Marjorie answered. She looked fed up and ready to burst into tears.

  Peter looked exasperated but just shook his head. “We will organize to get some,” he said. How he did not say. Instead he resumed climbing the mountain. Willy gave Marjorie a drink from his supply, then followed. He was now having strong doubts about the expedition being a good idea.

  Another hour went by. Several times they came to a panting halt and Willy gave Marjorie more of his water. He studied her anxiously, concerned that she might give up or throw a tantrum. But she managed weak smiles and forced herself on. The three navy cadets were tight-lipped but determined and made no complaints.

  Just after 4:00 pm they reached a more level area, studded here and there with quite large rocks. Peter stopped and shrugged off his pack. “I reckon we are on top,” he said. Willy looked around and noted that there was light showing through the jungle in all directions at or below the level he was at. ‘I hope so!’ he thought.

  CHAPTER 13

  NIGHT IN THE JUNGLE

  Peter suddenly bent down to open his pack, calling to Roger as he did, “Quick Roger. Get your hutchie out.”

  Roger did as he was told, quickly dropping his pack and opening it to extract the camouflaged plastic shelter the army cadets called a hoochy or hutchie. As Peter unrolled the nylon cords wrapped around his he said, “You others get yours out as well. Select some flat areas between two trees and put them up as quickly as you can.”

  Willy, Stick and Marjorie all had ‘Shelters Individual’ and had been on bivouacs where they had put them up so knew what to do. They at once took off their packs and began taking them out. The navy cadets only had a small plastic tent, each one carrying part of it. They also set to work.

  But Peter worked with what appeared to Willy to be frantic speed and had his tied up by its four corners to four trees within what seemed like seconds but was actually a bit over a minute. He tied it up so high he could stand underneath it. That done he dragged his pack and webbing underneath and called out, “Too late. Get your gear under here, quick, and get your water bottles out.”

  Willy suddenly understood why they had been in such a hurry. He became conscious, by the sound and by the progressive darkening, that another shower of rain was coming. He lifted his pack under the shelter and then helped Marjorie with hers. By then the first spits were hitting the tree tops. Within a minute heavy drops were splatting on the plastic sheet. Peter held an open water bottle under the lowest point and a trickle began flowing into it.

  As the rain got heavier the trickle became a gush and Peter soon had his water bottle full. Willy was ready and immediately replaced his with Marjorie’s. By then Roger had his shelter up as well and Carmen, Andrew and Tina crowded under it with him and also began refilling water bottles.

  By the time the rain eased off half an hour later all of the water containers had been refilled, some of them twice, as Peter insisted they all drink their fill then refill the water bottles. Knowing that they now had enough water for the night greatly eased some of Willy’s apprehension but he was still very conscious that they were very much on their own. Even though it was only 2 kilometres to the nearest house on the map he understood it was very much more than that.

  Once the rain had gone Peter instructed them to set up camp. He indicated suitable flat areas among the trees, ferns and vines. They were able to set up the shelters in a rough semi-circle. Willy shared with Stick, despite Marjorie’s wistful looks. He knew that she had promised her mother she would sleep with the girls and he was determined to help her keep it. The three girls shared the small tent and Andrew joined Peter.

  Following Peter’s guide they did not set up the shelters in a low ‘A’ shape but tied them higher up as a flat roof.

  “In the jungle you don’t need it low,” Peter explained. “You need to be able to sit under it out of the rain so you can do cooking and so on.”

  Roger agreed. “Captain Conkey also says that from a tact
ical point of view a flat hutchie is harder to see for an attacking enemy running though the jungle than a low one pegged down at the sides,” he added.

  Willy had never thought about it, the Air Cadet instructors insisting they make them low and pegged down. He suspected that maybe they did that because that was how they were taught but that they did not really have much practical experience and so just always did it that way. He was starting to really admire Peter and grudgingly (but secretly) began to admire the army cadets methods.

  ‘They do know what they are about,’ he told himself.

  Peter next instructed them to eat. They sat in a circle on their packs or groundsheets to cook. The army and air cadets all had small folding stoves that burnt hexamine. They heated their water and food in their mess tins over the flames. The navy cadets had a much larger spirit stove and a variety of metal bowls and plates.

  As he spooned hot ‘Steak and Onions’ into his mouth Roger said, “I wonder if Graham and Steve got to their party on time?”

  “Bugger their party!” Peter snapped.

  Willy glanced at Peter and realized that he was really peeved that his friend had left them.

  Carmen swallowed a mouthful and then said, “Graham’s normally really keen on hiking isn’t he?”

  Even though she was looking at Peter it was Roger who answered. “Yes he is. It’s just that he’s got his mind on other things.”

  “He’s in love,” Marjorie said.

  “Love!” Stick snorted. “The way he was looking at that Betty broad I don’t think it was love that was on his mind!”

  Carmen frowned at this. Tina spoke and said, “I think he is wasting his time. From the look of it Carol has realized he isn’t the man for her but hasn’t worked out how to tell him.”

  “Never mind Graham’s love life. I hope he misses out,” Stick added.

  “Stick! That’s not very nice,” Marjorie chided.

  “Yeah well, if we have to get soaked and eaten by leeches in this bloody jungle then the least he could do is be here. It was his idea wasn’t it?”

  Willy could not remember who had suggested the expedition but to change the subject he dug out the photocopied pages of the book in which he had read the account of the crash and asked Peter what the plan was the next morning. Peter gestured to the surrounding jungle. “We search the top end of the re-entrants, starting with the northern side. That’s where any wreck should be.”

  “Do we split up?” Marjorie asked, slipping in to sit beside Willy as she did.

  “No. Too risky,” Peter answered. “We can’t afford to have people lost.”

  Andrew now asked the question that had been nagging at Willy. He said, “Why would any aircraft be flying so low if they knew there were mountains around?”

  “Maybe they didn’t know there were mountains. I think there was cloud,” Peter replied.

  Willy answered that after checking the printed account. “Yes there was.”

  “Maybe they thought they were somewhere else, a navigational error?” Carmen suggested.

  Stick scoffed, “Oh, fair go! They must have known where they were.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Willy said. “I read that the ‘Liberator’ bomber that crashed during World War Two near Moonlight Creek over in the Gulf Country near Burketown was way off course. They had been bombing Japanese ships north of Buna in Papua New Guinea and were on their way back to a place called Iron Range up in the Cape. After the crash two of the crew, the captain and navigator I think, set out walking east believing they would soon come to the east coast of Cape York.”

  Carmen was still incredulous. “But.. but to get to the Gulf Country near Burketown they must have flown right across Cape York Peninsula. How could they do that?”

  Willy shrugged. “I read that they ran into bad storms and it might have been dark by then,” he said.

  “But… but… but that is a thousand kilometres off course!” gasped Carmen.

  Willy nodded. “That’s right.”

  Stick snorted and said, “Oh, I don’t believe that! Nobody could be that bad.”

  “Oh yes they could,” Peter said.

  Roger nodded. “The navigator might have put his protractor sideways on the map and gone off at ninety degrees to the way he meant,” he said.

  Peter gave a short laugh and Willy saw a sly grin spread across his face. “Just like someone I know did on a cadet navigation exercise you mean?” Peter said.

  Roger went red. “Bite your bum!” he snapped.

  “Sorry,” Peter said. “But that is a good theory Rog..”

  Roger appeared mollified by this. Carmen now spoke. “They might have got their magnetic variation wrong too, added it when they meant to subtract or something like that.”

  That made sense to Willy. He had done just enough navigation training to know that the magnetic compass did not line up with the grid lines on maps, or the lines of longitude on charts. He said, “The magnetic variation in this part of the world is about seven degrees East isn’t it?”

  Peter answered: “Nearly eight now. Would have been seven then. It slowly changes. That is possible too.”

  “Seven degrees isn’t enough to put a plane that far off course,” Roger objected.

  “No, but it would be enough for a plane flying down the east coast of Cape York to think he was out over the sea when in fact he was over land. It would be more than enough to cause a crash into a mountain in cloud,” Peter said.

  “Particularly if he added when he should have subtracted. That would give a fourteen degree error wouldn’t it?” Carmen suggested.

  ‘She’s a bright girl!’ Willy thought admiringly, trying to work out in his own mind what would have happened.

  Peter gave the answer, further confirming Willy’s belief that Peter was the real ‘brains’ of the Hiking Team. “That’s right. Let’s say they were flying south and the Grid Bearing was one hundred and fifty degrees. In that case the Magnetic Bearing should have been one fifty minus seven, which is one forty three degrees. That is using a magnetic variation east of north. If the navigator added instead he would have told the pilot to fly on one fifty seven. That would bring the plane on a converging course with the coast and then on over land.”

  Tina looked horrified. “That’s an awful thought, that all those men could die just because someone made a mistake in their maths.”

  “I think it happened a lot, in the age before GPS and computers,” Peter said.

  “Even so, I think I will pay more attention to my mathematics at school,” Tina replied.

  It was a sentiment that Willy agreed with. The idea of killing other people by making such a simple mistake appalled him.

  More rain pattered and dripped, forcing them all to huddle in under their shelters. By then it was getting dark and Willy began to experience quite unfamiliar feelings of anxiety. The dark jungle seemed to wall him in and he felt very isolated. Marjorie snuggled closer and he put his arm around her and held her tight.

  By 7:30pm it was fully dark. Stick suggested they light a fire but Roger vetoed that. “Not worth the effort,” he explained. “The wood is all wet and this rain forest wood is all so rotten it burns to ash in a few minutes. You’d spend more time out in the jungle looking for more.”

  “It’s dark!” Andrew commented.

  Peter chuckled. “Yes. It gets really dark in the jungle. You can’t see your hand in front of your face.”

  Willy had heard this so now he tried it. To his surprise he found it was true. Even when held only centimetres from his eyes he could not see his hand!

  Tina suddenly cried out. “Oh! What is that stuff that is glowing?”

  Willy looked and noted a strange pattern of ghostly glow on the floor of the jungle. Stick turned his torch on and the glow instantly vanished. In the beam of the torch all Willy could see were dead leaves and sticks.

  “Turn the torch off Stick,” Peter instructed. “It is only phosphorescence, natural luminous.”

 
; Stick did as he was asked and as Willy’s eyes adjusted to the dark he again saw the faint glow. Peter and Roger both reached out and scooped up dead sticks which had the whitish luminosity on them and passed them around. Again Willy was amazed. There was more to come. A firefly flickered through the camp but they had no chance to catch it. Willy found the sight truly fascinating.

  “There are even little luminous bugs,” Roger explained. “Once on a scout camp we caught a dozen of them and put them all in a bottle and you could read by it.”

  Willy didn’t know if he believed that or not but Peter assured him it was true. “It’s how they attract their mates,” he explained.

  At that Marjorie gave Willy a squeeze that got him all aroused and he wished they could get away somewhere private. But that was not to be. Roger suggested supper so stoves were dug out and lit and warm drinks were prepared: Milo, coffee and cocoa. Willy enjoyed a cup of hot Milo and was surprised to find he was getting cold.

  Later in the night Willy was glad he had the sleeping bag Peter had insisted they all bring. ‘I wish I had Marjorie with me to warm me up,’ he thought. But she had (reluctantly) rejoined the girls in their tent at 9:30 pm when it was voted they get to sleep so as to make an early start in the morning.

  But Willy found it hard to sleep. He kept waking and staring at the blackness that enveloped the camp. All he could hear were the breathing of his friends and the drip of water. Occasionally some bush animal would scuttle, causing alarm. After being woken several times Peter got grumpy. “Listen, if it scuttles it is just a rat or something. You will hear a pig or cassowary long before it arrives.”

  “What do we do if one does?” Stick asked, a noticeable quaver in his voice.

  “Pull your head into your sleeping bag and go to sleep!” Peter replied sharply. Willy wasn’t sure if that was an order or the policy to adopt but found he had trouble staying calm. Not being able to see began to wear down his nerves. So did the thought of things crawling or slithering in out of the night. ‘Snakes and centipedes, for example,’ he thought anxiously. He found he was breathing hard and knew he was scared.