For the next few hundred metres they paddled into the face of the growing breeze. This blew up patterns of ripples and made progress considerably harder. Andrew settled to his task, his eyes questing all the while. At this point both banks of the river were ‘civilized’; with houses back beyond the line of trees and mowed grass forming areas of park. He noted people walking along the same walking path that he and Carmen had followed that morning.
Cormorants stuck their long, snake-like necks up out of the water as they swam and dived. Ducks paddled away. A tortoise put its head up for air and hastily dived, its tiny legs thrusting urgently as it sought the safety of the depths. Water-waders scurried busily around on the lilies. A fish jumped with a plop that made Andrew jump.
Their course angled them across towards the other bank. A fringe of weeds, reeds and long grass cloaked it. This was broken in places by tracks and small beaches. At one of these a man was throwing sticks for three large black dogs to swim for. At another were several teenagers, both boys and girls, swimming and splashing in the shallows.
Further along the higher north bank receded, leaving a large grassy flat with young trees on it. Beyond this was an earthen rampart which Jill assured Andrew was a flood levee. Then a swampy side channel was passed and the area on the left became a tangle of weeds, bushes and long grass, interspersed with a few trees. Another swampy channel choked with reeds and lilies at the lower end indicated this might be an island.
All the while a dark line ahead had marked the concrete wall of Aplins Weir. Several people stood on this and, while Andrew studied it more closely, three kids wheeled their bikes across. The first canoe reached the weir and pulled into the shore on the southern side. Jill steered the second canoe to the same spot.
The canoe was guided skilfully in and they scraped to a standstill. Jill held the canoe while Letitia and Andrew climbed out. He then held it for her and then tied the bow painter to a gate designed to stop people crossing the weir. The others stood on the weir talking. Andrew moved over beside Mark and looked around.
His first impression was of how high the weir was. It was at least ten metres above the next stretch of the river. The concrete wall sloped backwards, resulting in a straight drop down to a concrete baffle. Beyond this there was a barrier of large rocks, then a wide, deep stretch of water.
“That’s a good drop,” Andrew observed. “You wouldn’t want to slip down there.”
Mark nodded. “No, you would really hurt yourself,” he agreed.
Nearby, sitting in the middle of the metre wide top of the weir, were the fishermen. Andrew now saw that they were all black people: Torres Strait Islanders from their features. They nodded a cheery hello and went on with their fishing. Two more stood on a small beach below the weir. They were heaving a cast net into the shallows.
The friends trooped up to a small ‘lookout’ and shelter shed, read the plaque, studied the suburbs and the rocky grandeur of Mt Stuart's northern face, which here dominated the skyline, then strolled back down to the canoes. All the while Andrew was conscious of the tension and emotional by-play occurring in the group. There was no doubt about it, he decided, Jill was being very friendly to him and Mark was getting the cold shoulder.
Another group of teenagers came walking across the weir from the north side. The two groups pretended to ignore each other but Andrew noted Mark give a girl in the other group a very appraising look. The business of re-boarding the canoes and getting underway then occupied the next few minutes. As they slid backwards out into deeper water Martin kept making jokes about the canoes being drawn over the top of the weir. As there was only a trickle of water lapping over the top no-one took this seriously but Andrew conceded it could be a danger if there was a lot of rain.
As they set off back the way they had come he indicated the tangle of weeds, long grass and trees on the north side.
“Is that an island over there Martin?”
Martin shrugged. “Not sure. Think it is. I’ve never looked that closely.”
“Let’s look now,” Mark suggested.
“Aw, looks a bit scrubby,” Carmen said, her nose going up in disagreement. The others agreed, even Andrew.
Jill made a face. “Be snakes for sure,” she commented. That ended any further discussion of the subject. Paddles were dug in and the canoes set off upstream. That was easier as they had the sun and the wind at their backs and it all looked very pretty. As they paddled along yells and splashes from the south bank showed where a group of kids was swimming and swinging out from another rope on a large overhanging tree. Andrew studied them but did not know any of them.
After ten minutes they were back opposite the Schipholl’s. Carmen kept her canoe heading upstream so the second canoe followed. They pushed along past the swimming pontoon to the bridges. As they approached these Andrew was again surprised by the stream of never-ending traffic crossing them. The canoes slid into the shadows under the bridge and Andrew met Martin’s eyes and gave a wry grin as they both relived those awful moments.
The river now curved to the west and was even more choked with lilies and weeds. The water birds became more numerous. Jill pointed and cried out in delight: “Oh look, black swans!”
Two magnificent black swans went gliding by only a few metres away. Andrew admired them and marvelled how tame they were. Carmen said: “I thought they were only found in West Australia.”
Martin shook his head. “No, you see lots of them here,” he replied.
“And pelicans,” Letitia added. “I like them the best.”
They paddled on at a leisurely rate. On their right the north bank appeared to be just bush except that the roof of an occasional house showed here and there. Andrew pointed and asked: “Are there many houses up there?”
Mark answered. “Yes, a whole suburb. That’s Cranbrook.”
“Don’t you live over there Mark?” Andrew asked.
“Yes, only a couple of blocks from the river,” Mark replied.
The south bank had houses along it, with back lawns sloping down to the waters edge. After a time this gave way to a belt of the original vegetation with houses beyond that. In the distance hills covered with bright green grass and scattered ironbarks showed ahead. A flock of ducks skittered off as the canoes approached. Several pelicans swooped down in graceful curves before landing.
“I love watching them do that,” Martin said. “They look just like big aeroplanes coming in to land.”
Andrew thought of videos he had seen of huge flying boats and had to agree.
The trip continued upstream for another half hour. By then they had rounded another curve so that the bridges passed out of sight and they could only see houses on their right. Only some powerlines swooping across the river in silver threads high above their heads, then another weir, reminded them of civilization. This second weir was lower and was black in colour, the concrete covered with lichen and green slime. A trickle of water ran down its face.
“What dam is this?” Carmen asked.
“Gleesons Weir,” Mark answered.
The water hyacinth were much thicker here, huge floating beds of it which extended most of the way across the river. As Carmen led the way along a narrow channel through these she asked: “Should we carry the canoes up to the next level?”
Martin shrugged. “We can if you like; if we can get through these weeds. I don’t know what it’s like. I’ve never been there.”
“I have,” Jill replied. “I live just up there a block from the river.”
“Will we go on then?” Carmen asked.
“Going to rain soon,” Mark pointed out. That was true. Masses of grey cloud were looming overhead and rain could be seen further down the river.
“Better head back then,” Letitia said. “It’s time for lunch anyway.”
“OK then,” Martin agreed. “Let’s... Hey! What’s going on there?”
A girl’s shrill cry had reached them from near the right hand end of the weir. Andrew looked and noted t
wo girls, both apparently crying and calling out. “Don’t! Oh don’t! Stop it you disgusting pigs!” one girl called, distress evident in her voice.
At that moment a harsh laugh sounded from beyond the weir and then two heads came into view: Troy and Jay.
“The bullies!” Carmen cried. “Come on!” Without waiting to see if the others agreed she dug her paddle in and began to propel her canoe towards that end of the weir.
CHAPTER 7
CONFLICT
Andrew followed Carmen’s example and dug his paddle deep into the water. The canoe began to move, even as more screams and cries of distress came from beyond the concrete wall of the weir. The dam wall was not high, only about four metres, but they were so close to the bottom that they could not see over it.
Masses of floating water hyacinth blocked their path, impeding their efforts. Carmen’s canoe soon came to a sluggish stop some metres from the shore. She called on Mark to clear the lilies from their path but it quickly became apparent that this was an almost hopeless task. The floating plants just flowed back to fill up the area that had been cleared.
Andrew drove his canoe in beside Carmen’s and it also came to a rubbery standstill. More distressed cries from over the wall moved Andrew to act. He pushed his paddle down to test the depth. Finding it only about a metre deep he sprang over the side, to splash into smelly, waist deep water. The bottom was slime and rocks. Ignoring the risks and unpleasantness he pushed forward into the barrier of lilies, dragging the canoe after him.
Ten steps had him stumbling in knee deep water. The canoe grounded on weed covered rocks. Andrew hauled it into the shallows and turned to find the best way up the bank. The wall of the weir was too steep to climb so he turned his attention to the grass covered shore. This consisted of a tangle of waist high guinea grass and weeds growing on rocks about twenty metres wide. Seizing his paddle and using it to test for holes under the grass he began making his way to the bank.
Something black slithered near his feet. Andrew let out an involuntary shout and sprang in the air. The snake, just as frightened, flashed from view in the long grass.
Jill had been in the act of stepping out of the canoe. Now she hesitated with one foot in the shallow water. “What is it?” she called.
“Snake,” Andrew called. “It’s gone now.” He didn’t wait for further explanations and, thrusting fears of more snakes from his mind, went scrambling and stumbling across the tangle of grass and rocks. Within thirty paces he was on a sloping concrete wall which led up to the level of the weir wall. As he ran up this, still clutching the paddle, his questing eyes took in the scene.
Two of the bullies: Troy and Jay, stood on the bank of the river a few metres upstream. Near them stood two young girls, primary school kids from the look of them. Both girls were in tears and were calling on the two bullies to stop it:- it being the throwing of stones at a large cardboard box which floated in the water above the dam. The box was about five metres out amidst more floating lilies and was canted over and looked ready to capsize.
Even as Andrew reached the top of the wall a large stone thrown by Troy thudded into the box, toppling it over. The two girls screamed and again called on the bullies to stop. Both bullies laughed. Troy turned to sneer at the girls, then saw Andrew running towards him. The sneer turned to a look of astonishment that Andrew later remembered with amusement.
“Stop it you bullies!” Andrew shouted. Jay spun round, mouth agape. Troy acted. He snatched up another stone the size of a cricket ball and hurled it at Andrew with all the force he could muster. Andrew was only ten paces away and was too surprised to react in time. The rock thudded into his left thigh with numbing force.
Troy bent to pick up another stone, then changed his mind as an enraged Andrew, stung by the blow, rushed at him, paddle upraised. Troy reacted by running back a few paces before throwing another stone. This time Andrew was ready. He swung the paddle in time to deflect it. The action probably saved him from striking Troy with the paddle, possibly with serious consequences.
The two met. Troy swung a punch, which Andrew parried with the paddle. Troy then grabbed the paddle and tried to wrestle it from his grasp. Jay ran in and swung a punch which took Andrew on the side of the head. The blow hurt and made his senses swim. He let go of the paddle with one hand to defend himself and fended off two more punches from both bullies.
‘I’m in trouble here,’ Andrew thought. ‘Where are the others?’ He risked a glance and saw Mark racing in. Jay sprang back and turned to meet him. The two grappled and fell to the ground. Troy now changed his tactics and kicked savagely at Andrew’s groin. Out of the corner of his eye Andrew detected the movement and was just able to move to protect himself. The boot thudded into his left knee, sending sickening waves of pain through him. He struck back with his free hand and had the great satisfaction of feeling it smash into Troy’s mouth.
The bully pulled back. Blood showed on his lip and he swore loudly. He again tried to wrench the paddle from Andrew’s grasp. Beside them Mark and Jay rolled over and over and splashed into the slimy shallows. Shrill screams from the two young girls made Andrew glance around.
To his dismay he saw that Forman and Shaun were running down a road towards them. Andrew looked around frantically. Where were the others? Why weren’t they with them? Even as he wondered this he saw Carmen come running up the bank, paddle in hand. The glance cost Andrew a punch on the nose. That really hurt and he smelt and tasted blood.
For a moment he wanted to back out and he nearly let go of the paddle. Troy tried to kick him again and twisted savagely at the paddle. Andrew swung another punch, but failed to make contact as Troy ducked back. Punches and oaths came from Mark and Jay as they splashed in the shallows. Then Carmen arrived. She swung her paddle, striking Troy hard on the backside.
The bully cried out in pain and sprang back, letting go of Andrew’s paddle. Jill, Martin and Letitia arrived simultaneous to Forman and Shaun. The pair wrestling in the water became the momentary focus. Jay pushed Mark’s face under water but Mark landed a good punch on his nose, causing blood to stream down. There was a furious struggle for a moment. Andrew feared they might kill each other but Jay suddenly broke free, scrambled to his feet and dashed over to stand beside Forman and Shaun.
The four bullies stood in a line facing the friends. Both sides were breathing heavily, fists up and eyes wary. Carmen had her paddle up and clearly meant to use it if attacked.
“What’s going on?” she snapped.
One of the younger girls pointed at the bullies. “They were drowning our kittens!” she wailed, next indicating the now almost completely submerged carton.
Carmen’s face darkened with anger. “You low life filth!” she snapped. She was clearly furious and the four bullies fell back a couple of paces. Her eyes blazed and her chest heaved with emotion and gasps for breath.
Troy curled his lip. “Get stuffed ya moll,” he snarled.
“Don’t call me names you disgusting pig!” Carmen replied. She hefted the paddle and stepped forward. The bullies fell back another step before her blazing fury. Mark staggered to his feet, shook his head, then splashed into the water towards the rapidly sinking box. Andrew wiped his face and tasted blood. His head felt as though something was buzzing inside it.
The stand-off ended abruptly as Shaun called to his cronies: “Hey! Here comes some guy. Let’s split.”
An angry looking middle-aged man was striding quickly down the road from the houses up on the bank. The gang took one look then ran off in the other direction, along another track that led up onto the bank near some more houses. Andrew put down his paddle and rested on it, his breath still coming in gasps. To his shame he began to shiver and tremble.
Mark reached the box, in waist deep water, and hauled it up. He carried it back to the shore, water pouring from it. The two young girls cried out in dismay as it was placed on the ground. Mark opened the top.
One of the younger girls went and looked in and her face
registered her horror. “Oh no!” she wailed.
Andrew looked unwillingly. The bottom of the box seemed to be just one mass of soggy fur. Mark reached down and extracted a limp and soaked kitten. It was obviously dead. Both young girls burst into tears. The other drowned kittens were lifted out by Jill and Mark and laid on the grass; six of them in all.
The man reached them. “What’s going on Emma?” he asked the other young girl.
“We were just walking home from Tegan’s and those boys came along and took our kittens off us dad,” Emma explained. “They threw the box in the water and started to throw stones at it. Then this boy ran up and started to fight them.”
She indicated Andrew. He blushed and felt weak at the knees. A strong desire to sit down swept over him. He managed a grin, then wiped his face again.
“Oh! You are hurt!” Emma cried.
Not wanting to appear weak Andrew shook his head. “Only a punch on the nose,” he replied. But Letitia suddenly appeared on one side of him and Jill on the other. Both girls began to fuss over him, while darting hostile glances at each other. Andrew noted this but was too flustered by their attention to think clearly.
Carmen explained to the man who they were and what was going on. He was very angry about the bullies and thanked them profusely. Andrew felt Jill wiping his face and relaxed to enjoy it. Then his gaze settled on Mark, standing miserably to one side, blood trickling down his face as well.
“You OK Mark?” he mumbled.
That diverted some of the attention from him. Carmen and Martin went to him, but neither Jill, nor Letitia. Mark looked even more miserable. He was soaked and covered in slime and weeds and was shivering.
The man tried to get them to come up to his house to recover but at that moment it began to drizzle. Carmen thanked him politely and said they would set off home. The man nodded and urged the two young girls to head home, telling them to leave the drowned kittens.
Ross River Fever Page 8