Martin stood up. “They are getting away,” he gasped, indicating the three hoons. Andrew bent to look through the leaves and saw the three heads already more than half way across the backwater. Before he realized what he was doing he saw Martin slip into the water and start splashing after them.
“Martin! Don’t be silly! Leave it to the cops!” Andrew yelled.
“Tell them which way they have gone,” Martin called back as he pushed out into the open water and began swimming. Andrew stood up and flapped his hands indecisively for a moment, then ran to the plank bridge. The police still had not found the rope.
“All the gang are gone,” he yelled. “They are swimming across the backwater. Quick! Go back around to the other side!”
Even as he called out he dashed along the narrow planks. It took both hands to grip the trees and branches but the bridge was easy enough to follow. He came abruptly to the end of the planks and was faced by a wall of tall reeds. An upward glance showed the rope leading from higher up the tree.
“Take too long,” he muttered. Heedless of scratches and snakes he hurled himself into the reeds and began to crash his way through. This was, he quickly discovered, a mistake, as he sank deeply into a tangle of mud and roots and had to claw his way through them. By the time he had struggled through the twenty metres of reeds he was gasping for breath and was quite unable to give any coherent explanation to the policemen who waited.
The inspector was there, as well as Sgt Bailey and Constable Fort, plus several others including a dog handler. With them was Carmen who cried out with relief when she saw him.
“Oh Andrew! What has happened to you? Are you all right?”
Andrew could only nod and gasp. He coughed and hung his head, then leaned on a tree as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Nearby he noted Jay sitting handcuffed and under guard. One caught at least. But the leaders were getting away!
He straightened up and started walking. “This way. They... puff... puff.. are.. getting away.”
The police and Carmen tried to get him to stop and explain but he shook them off and pointed while still walking. That set them moving. Andrew heard the inspector ordering a couple of constables to search the camp and for the others to come with them.
As he walked Andrew recovered his breath and explained what had happened and where the other hoons were. “They will be across the backwater by now and running downstream. Come on. Martin is swimming after them. He could be in trouble.”
That thought got him to break into a stumbling run. The others all followed, the inspector giving orders on a radio as they went. Andrew noted Anne and vaguely wondered where Letitia was. Then he was running down across the creek at the head of the backwater. Going up and down over the small, greasy gullies where Sheena’s gang had trapped them was hard going and he slipped several times but got up at once and kept grimly on.
Within a minute they were at the large creek where the track went through the reeds. As they struggled up the steep slope on the other side they met Martin. He was staggering and smeared with mud from head to toe. Andrew heaved a sigh of relief.
Martin gave a weak grin and pointed. “That way!” he gasped.
Andrew continued running. He followed the main trail bike track and tried to keep as straight a line as possible. ‘Black Weir,’ he thought. ‘That is where they will cross.’
He called this to Constable Fort who was pounding along on his heels and the policeman used his radio to pass it on. Somehow Andrew kept running, even though his heart was thumping fit to bust and his lungs felt as though they were on fire. Rain lashed at them and he slipped and fell several times on greasy slopes as they crossed the small creeks. A glance behind showed the pursuers stringing out. Carmen and several younger police kept up, including the dog handler but the inspector and Sgt Bailey had fallen well behind.
A couple of minutes later they were near the end of the weir. As they dashed along from the last creek crossing Andrew began to get glimpses of it through the gaps in the trees.
And there were the three hoons, standing at the end of it! As Andrew burst out of the trees they saw him and the following police. Panic showed clear on the hoon’s faces and they continued walking out across the weir. Andrew glanced at the other bank and groaned. No police car there!
He stopped at the end of the weir and gasped to Constable Fort: “Quick! Call on your radio and get a car to the other bank!”
But Constable Fort ignored him. He ran to the end of the weir and cupped his hands to yell above the roar of the falls: “Come back you idiots! Don’t try to cross or you’ll be washed off!”
Only then did Andrew realize that the water flowing over the weir was at least knee deep on the hoons. They were nearly a third of the way across already. He moved forward but Constable Fort put his arm out and stopped him. “You aren’t going out on there. Stay back,” he ordered. He then shouted to the hoons again, calling on them to come back.
They ignored him, or did not even hear him, although Andrew saw Forman and Troy both glance back. Carmen and several more police arrived and stood in a panting group at the end of the weir. Sgt Bailey puffed up and then shook his head in dismay; “The mad bastards! They’ll never make it!” he said.
For the first time Andrew felt concern, not that the hoons might escape, but that they might be in danger. That quickly turned to a sick feeling of dread as he watched them edging out towards the middle of the weir. How they could do it was a marvel as the thunder of foam below the weir was awe-inspiring to say the least. The water boiled and surged and threw up clouds of spray. The noise was so loud they had to shout to make themselves heard over it.
“No!”
A unanimous groan escaped the watchers as Shaun suddenly slipped. He grabbed at Forman and for a moment the two were locked together, teetering on the lip of the fall. Then Forman’s free arm lashed out and Shaun was gone. He went so fast Andrew could only stare in shock.
At that he felt sick and started to pray; “Please God, see them safely across!”
But even as he said it Troy went down. One moment he was there and the next he was a tiny figure of windmilling arms and legs going down the face of the dam amidst the white steaks. Andrew ran along the bank a few metres to watch and saw the black figure tumble into the swirling foam at the bottom before vanishing from sight.
At that Andrew vomited again, quite unnoticed by the other watchers. Only Forman to go. It had a dreadful inevitability to it. For a minute more Forman could be seen edging along the top, then he was gone in the twinkle of an eye. Andrew never even saw him go down the face of the dam, but he did hear a thin cry which made him sick to his stomach again.
For several minutes the watchers stood in stunned and sickened silence while the rain and spray drenched them. Suddenly Carmen cried out and pointed.
“One of them is alive! Look! He is clinging to that tree.”
Andrew looked and saw a tiny black figure amidst the branches of the tree which had been washed over the weir by the floods and was jammed in the baffle.
“And there’s another!” shouted a policeman.
A tiny black head could be seen out in the middle of the river. An arm appeared, showing the person was swimming. Hearts in mouth the watchers craned forward as the swimmer struggled to keep his head above the swirling turbulence. By then he was at least fifty metres below the dam and Andrew started to breathe easily, thinking him safe.
But the tragedy was not yet played out. Before their horrified eyes the struggling swimmer seemed to come to a standstill, just as he reached the edge of the calmer water. Then, with a sickening slowness, a back-eddy brought him back towards the dam wall. Andrew could not tear his eyes from the awful struggle. The swimmer, Forman he thought, realized he was in trouble and threshed wildly to break out of the current but it just sucked him back along with all the other flotsam.
Carmen put her hands to her mouth. “Oh my God! No!” she cried.
Before their horrified gaze the swimmer
was sucked back into the swirling maelstrom at the base of the weir. An arm showed once through the spume and spray and then he was gone.
Again there was a period of shocked silence. Andrew shook his head and wiped rain water from his eyes. It couldn’t be true! People just wiped out like that! But he knew it was and it stunned him; until his eyes took in the figure clinging to the tree. That stirred him.
Andrew grabbed the inspector’s sleeve. “We must save him. Quick, get a boat!”
CHAPTER 30
BLACK WEIR
An hour later Andrew was still standing in the rain at the southern end of the Black Weir. By then he was chilled to the bone and blue with cold as the rain had continued unabated. Beside him stood Carmen, Martin and Anne. Nearby were the police: the inspector, Sgt Bailey, Constable Fort and several others. In a police 4WD which had ground its way down through the bush sat Letitia.
“At last!” Carmen cried.
Andrew could only agree. It seemed to have taken a very long time for the police to produce a rescue boat. But now he watched as six police carried an inflatable boat with an outboard motor down the far bank. A large crowd had gathered there, in spite of the cold wind and driving rain.
As the inflatable was launched about a hundred metres below the weir Sgt Bailey, now clad in a raincoat, came over to the group. He pointed across the river to the crowd at the other end of the weir.
“Your mate Mark is safe over there. Our chaps have just radioed in. It seems he managed to get both kayaks across the river. In one of them is a bag full of stolen jewellery and money; stuff the gang has burgled.”
“Thank you,” Carmen replied. Andrew added his thanks and sighed with relief. He had been worried about Mark. Now he could relax and concentrate on the rescue of the gang member who still clung (or was he stuck?) to the branches of the tree which was jammed in the turbulence at the bottom of the weir.
Two policemen in wet suits and lifejackets climbed into the inflatable and one started the motor. This took several goes but at last a puff of blue smoke indicated success. The sound of the engine carried faintly to the group. Anne let out a little cheer and they all grinned.
It had been an awful wait. After seeing two of the gang washed to their deaths Andrew had no desire to witness more tragedy. The police had tried to persuade them to leave but all had refused. The thing had to be seen through. Now Andrew was silently praying for the safety of the surviving gang member.
The inflatable came surging upstream against the current, bouncing and sliding across the rough water and currents. As it advanced Andrew studied the problem. Flood water was thundering over the weir at a fantastic rate. He estimated that it was even deeper than it had been earlier, perhaps half a metre now. This was racing down the face of the dam to boil into a maelstrom of spume and spray on the concrete baffle at the bottom. On the edge of this was the tree, wedged on its side, with the person clinging to it.
Out beyond the zone of tumbling spray was an area where the brown water seethed and surged, with rips and back-eddies. There were small whirlpools caused by rocks in the river bed. From time to time a huge upwelling of water would disrupt the pattern. Out beyond that zone was an area of river which was streaked by scum and foam to mark the currents and cross-currents. This extended downstream as far as they could see.
It was through this area that the inflatable now slowly advanced. That it was hard going was obvious as the inflatable kept slewing from side to side in the unpredictable currents. Every so often it would encounter a standing wave or a surge of water and spray would be thrown up from its bow. The men in it were crouched low and could be seen hanging on.
Martin bit his lip and shook his head. “That looks very dangerous,” he commented.
The inspector replied. “Yes it is. I don’t like this at all.”
Anne suddenly gasped. “Oh! Look! They nearly tipped over then,” she cried.
The inflatable was now on the edge of the real turbulence. It was plain that it was not finding things easy going as it was now bucking up and down and steering was clearly a problem. The man holding the throttle was shielding his eyes from the spray while the man in the bows had changed position to crouch ready.
Quite unconsciously Andrew had started to chew on the knuckles of his left hand. He watched anxiously as the inflatable nosed slowly into the edge of the turbulence and boiling white spray. Almost at once things became difficult. The bow swung from side to side and water boiled and swept up over the sides. The man in the bow crouched lower and clung to the safety ropes along the top of the inflatable tubes.
The boat kept pushing into the spray but Andrew began to shake his head. So did the inspector. He turned to the driver of the 4WD. “Too dangerous. Tell them to back off,” he ordered.
Even as he said this there was a gasp from the onlookers. Before their horrified eyes the side of the inflatable suddenly dipped and white water surged aboard. In an instant the boat was on its side, then upside down.
“Oh no! Not more!” Carmen cried.
The upside down boat swirled around on the edge of the turbulence, held there by the back-eddies and undertow. Then a black head appeared downstream of it and the watchers let out a gasp of relief. Then a second head appeared, and an arm, clinging to the upturned boat. The group let out a cheer before subsiding into agonized silence as they watched the police divers struggle for their lives.
The swimmer went bobbing off downstream but was sucked under by a whirlpool. His lifejacket obviously saved him as he came to the surface ten metres closer to the dam. He was then spun around and around by the cross-currents and eddies. Andrew feared that the man would be sucked back into the undertow of the dam and for a while it looked as though this would happen but the man realized his danger and struck out- sensibly with the current. After a frantic swim he managed to reach an isolated tree, the furthest one out from the bank below where the friends were watching. Obviously exhausted he clung there.
Meanwhile the inflatable had been whirled around and around several times and for a moment it looked as though it would be stuck there by the currents, but then a surge of water pushed it clear and it went swirling off downstream at a rapid rate. The man with it could be seen clinging to the side. As it travelled rapidly downstream on the flood the watchers began to relax. It was safe from the deadly undertow.
Then a new worry struck Andrew. “He had better let go and swim for the shore,” he said. “Otherwise he will be washed over Gleesons Weir. It is just around the bend down there.”
The inspector’s brow creased with worry and he hurriedly radioed a car on the other bank to drive to the lower weir. By then the inflatable and its passenger had vanished around the bend in the river. The group were left to wonder at the man’s fate.
“What will you do now?” Carmen asked the inspector, indicating the person still clinging to the tree in the foam.
The inspector looked very worried. “Get a second boat and try ropes or something I guess,” he replied.
“Why not a helicopter?” Martin asked.
“Because the rescue chopper is away up at Wallaman Falls winching an injured bushwalker out of the jungle. It won’t be back for an hour or more.”
“He won’t last that long,” Sgt Bailey offered. “The cold and exposure will get him before then.”
“Why not an army helicopter?” Andrew asked. “There are dozens of them at the RAAF base.”
“I’ll try,” the inspector replied. “But I wouldn’t want to be flying low near powerlines in this weather.” He pointed upwards to the solid cloud mass from which rain continued to fall.
“Then he will die,” Carmen said flatly.
The inspector nodded. “Probably. But I’m not willing to risk another boat in that flood,” he replied.
Andrew contemplated the swirling, surging flood and had to agree. It did not seem right to risk even more lives. Already there were three at risk as the police diver in the tree was still there and appeared unwilling to try t
o swim the twenty metres to the next tree because the back-eddy he was in was being sucked directly back into the turbulence at the base of the wall.
The inspector pointed to the diver in the tree. “Let’s save Jones first. Get ropes and a boat to this bank and we will try to get him out. We will worry about the other bloke when we have saved him.”
The police radio was used again to call for another rescue team to join them. Then a call came to report that the diver who had been swept downstream was safe. He had made it safely to shore, but his inflatable had been swept over Gleesons Weir. That was something. But to Andrew it did not seem enough.
“We must do something,” he said.
“What? We can’t,” Carmen replied. “A canoe would never live in that water. It’s too rough.”
“The hovercraft,” Martin said quietly.
Carmen spun around and grabbed him by the arms. “Martin! That’s a brilliant idea! Do you think it would work?”
“It’s worth a try. Better than just standing and watching someone die,” Martin replied.
Carmen was seized with the idea. She ran to where the police inspector was talking on the vehicle radio. Andrew didn’t hear all that she said but she saw her anxiously pointing at Martin and at the youth in the river. The inspector looked very dubious.
“Tell me about this gadget,” he said as they crowded round.
Martin described his hovercraft and its performance. He particularly emphasized the fact that it slid over the water so would not be affected by the currents and eddies. “Please let us try!” he pleaded.
The inspector sucked his teeth and looked worried but then asked: “How would you get it here?” which told them he was seriously considering the idea.
“Along the river,” Martin replied. “But we would need a dozen men to carry it up past Gleesons Weir.”
“And to help us get it down to the river at your place,” Andrew added.
“Only need a couple for that,” Martin replied.
Ross River Fever Page 37