Ross River Fever

by Christopher Cummings

  That rescue had been bad. The next one would be worse!

  Very carefully he waded in and slid around onto the side of the hovercraft. Martin timed his own moves to slip out of the seat to counterbalance him. When he was once more kneeling holding the seat Martin met his eye and grinned, then held out his hand thumbs-up.

  Andrew somehow made a face which felt like it was frozen rubber twist into a grin. He returned the thumbs-up. Martin opened the throttle and the hovercraft surged forward against the flood.

  As they roared out into mid-stream Andrew looked ahead. What he saw made his heart thump rapidly inside a chest which seemed to be squeezed tight by fear. This time they would have to go right forward into the raging foam; and the person would not be a fit diver who wore a lifejacket.

  With a dreadful feeling of inevitably Andrew watched the danger zone growing larger as they approached it. Close up, the floodwaters roaring over the weir were truly terrifying. The noise and speed of it were enough to stun the senses. The water coming over the weir appeared to leap from a great height, the whole impression reminding Andrew of pictures of Niagara Falls, which his rational mind told him was absurd.

  Close beside them the whole surface of the river appeared to boil up with a fierce up-welling. Next it swirled into a whirlpool. A sickening memory of the youth being sucked inexorably into the maelstrom by the back-eddy made Andrew wish he had never volunteered. ‘I will be drowned!’ he thought in near panic. For the dreadful moment was upon him.

  Martin had steered the hovercraft right up to where the dead tree was wedged in the welter of white water at the base of the weir. Now the spray deluged them and the wind generated by the fall blew fiercely in their eyes. The effect was to chill the body as well as the spirit.

  Martin pointed and shouted but Andrew could not hear what he said above the combined roar of the water and the motors. They were now right on the edge of the tumbling zone of froth and foam. This was much higher than the hovercraft and formed a fearsome barrier to further progress. Andrew shook his head in dismay and wondered how they might effect the rescue.

  That they had to try was obvious for he could now see the person. It was Shaun. He was jammed or wedged in the branches of the tree with his head just free of the water. At first glance Andrew thought he was dead and he considered giving up the attempt. ‘He’s been in the water at least an hour. He might have drowned,’ he thought. But he knew he was just trying to find a chicken-hearted excuse for being a coward. He bit his lip and steeled himself for the attempt.

  ‘We will get only one go at this,’ he reasoned. For a minute he clung on, studying the situation, especially the currents which tugged at Shaun’s body. He had to wipe spray continually from his eyes. Martin yelled to him.

  Andrew looked at him and shouted back. “I will climb over and grab him. As soon as I have him I will wave and you drag us clear. Go fast.”

  Martin nodded and looked grim. Andrew licked lips which felt curiously dry, despite the drenching. In his mind he thought through each move, while trying to push out the terrible images of being swirled upside down in the turbulence. ‘If I am and my head hits the concrete or rocks I could be killed; or I could get trapped in a snag and drown.’

  Suddenly the main engine of the hovercraft coughed and backfired. Andrew looked across in alarm and saw Martin bend to his controls. The engine spluttered again, then caught and roared back to life. He didn’t need Martin's shouted explanation. Water was getting into the electrics!

  ‘It is now or never!’ Andrew thought. He took a deep breath and crouched ready to slip across. Martin nodded and opened the throttle, sending the bow of the hovercraft forward into the turbulence. The shattered tree and sodden body grew closer. With a splutter which stabbed at Andrew’s palpitating heart the motor coughed again. Carefully judging the distance he waited then took a deep breath and slid across to grab at a branch.

  The water was cold. And the current was much stronger than he had anticipated. The force of it tore at his body even as he struck the surging water. The shock nearly made him let go but he clung on grimly, appalled at the terrible reality of it all. Andrew grabbed desperately at the wet timber and got another shock. It was so slippery he almost lost his grip. But by clawing and scrabbling he was able to drag himself half up onto the branch. Then his feet gained a foothold and he was able to drag himself mostly clear of the water.

  Then Andrew managed to get a foot into the fork of the tree- to instantly regret it as the current threatened to wedge it there. With an effort he drew it back out, clutching grimly to the wet branches as he struggled for a footing. He managed this and then began to clamber and crawl along the tree into the welter of foam, while hanging on for dear life. In the spray he found ti hard to breathe but he kept moving and managed to reach Shaun.

  Andrew paused for a second to get his breath and the steady his shaking limbs. Then he reached down to haul at Shaun- and slipped! As he fell he grabbed desperately at the next branch and was just able to get his arms around it. He landed heavily with most of his body in the water and his head enveloped in spray and foam. The current tugged and tossed at him. buffeting him against the body and the tree, then scraping him against the rough concrete of the weir. For a few seconds he clung there, recovering from the fall. Then his mind clicked into gear. ‘I can’t stay here. I am getting weaker by the moment. I must move!’ he told himself. So he forced himself to reach across to Shaun.

  Shaun was alive. As Andrew gripped him he opened his eyes. That was a shock as well, but motivated Andrew to act. He put his arms around the bully and felt along to find how he was wedged in the tree. It was one arm, caught in a fork. Andrew tried to pull it free, and shouted to Shaun to help him. That was no good. Worse, he was sucked under and had his head banged against the tree. A moment of panic ended when his head bobbed out.

  Andrew knew he was fast running out of strength. He sensed that another dunking could be the end of him. With all the strength he could muster he gripped Shaun’s clothes and hunched to get his feet up against the dam wall. With a desperate heave he pulled Shaun up and out. Suddenly he was being tumbled over and over in the water. Absolute terror gripped him as he went upside down into the murky turbulence. Powerful forces dragged at his body. His chest felt as though it was being torn in two and his spine bent right back.

  Abruptly the currents changed direction and he was tossed and tugged in the opposite direction. In mortal terror Andrew opened his eyes. All he could see were dark, swirling bubbles. Close to panic he screamed as he was rolled over again. Water filled his mouth and he screamed again, blowing a huge burst of bubbles. Then his head broke surface and he sucked in air in a frantic gulp. Over and down he went again but he still gripped Shaun and his spinning senses told him that the turbulence was not as bad and that the pain around his chest was from the tow rope.

  Now his greatest fear was of being snagged and drowned on the bottom. He tried to squirm upright but it was futile. The current just rolled him over and he could not work out which way was up. Instead he concentrated on holding his breath and on gripping Shaun’s belt.

  Fresh air! Andrew gasped and gulped. This time his head stayed clear, despite spray and slopping water. He took another breath and his brain registered the fact that the weir was nowhere to be seen. With an effort he forced himself to look around, even though he got a face full of water doing so. Yes! They were well clear of the weir. The hovercraft was roaring downstream, towing them behind it.

  ‘That explains the pain in the chest,’ he realized. It was the towrope cutting into him, despite the lifejacket. That reminded him of the whole aim- to rescue Shaun. ‘I can’t hold him much longer. I must get the loop over him!’

  But he couldn’t. As soon as he thought about how to do it he realized that if he let go for an instant he would lose him. All he could do was grip with his other hand and relax the right hand which had started to cramp.

  ‘God I’m weak! What’s wrong with me?’ he thought in
alarm as Shaun seemed to become heavier and heavier. It was all Andrew could do to turn him and hold his head out of the water. And then he realized that the spluttering noise he could hear was the main engine of the hovercraft.

  Martin was magnificent. He had towed Andrew and Shaun at full speed down away from the zone of turbulence and well clear of the fatal back-eddies. Then he opened the throttles and swung the hovercraft into a wide curve toward the north shore. In doing so the towline was swept downstream past it, but then swung across to the bank. Andrew saw the rain-coated policeman reaching for him and then he was safe.

  CHAPTER 32

  ROSS RIVER FEVER

  For the next two days Andrew was in bed. After being hauled exhausted from the river he had been taken to hospital by ambulance for a check-up. From there he had been collected by his horrified Aunt and Uncle, who now learned the whole story for the first time. In spite of being one of the heroes of the hour he had been taken home and bundled into bed.

  During the first night he had slept as though drugged, only to wake weak and feverish on the Monday morning. The fever had then worsened as the morning wore on: aching joints, sore muscles, hot, gritty feeling eyes, a splitting headache, a feeling of complete exhaustion and alternate bouts of shivering and sweating.

  Visits to the doctor and then to the pathologist had confirmed that he had contracted Ross River Fever. Back to bed he went, feeling worse than he could ever remember. For hours at a time he lay in a restless sleep. Food held no attraction. He alternately shivered and sweated.

  Throughout it all he was morbidly aware of the reality of death. His mind brooded on the drownings; and on his own near death. Nightmares frequently woke him and he would lie shivering in perspiration soaked sheets feeling weak and wrung out.

  One things that did cheer him up briefly was being shown the headlines on the front of the newspaper.

  NAVY CADET HEROES SAVE LIVES IN FLOOD it read. The article following named both him and Martin and he blushed at that. ‘Martin’s not a cadet. He’s only thinking about joining,’ he thought. But he was pleased by the praise in the article.

  Also helping to counter his depression was the deep satisfaction of having been put to an ultimate test and having proved himself. There was also the gratification of knowing he had helped to save several lives; and of helping to bring a gang of villains to justice. But every time he thought of Forman’s last terrible tumble down the face of the Black Weir into that welter of deadly foam he broke into a cold sweat.

  Carmen and Aunty Bev were wonderful. One or the other seemed to be always beside him, day or night. Sometimes he woke from a tormented dream in which Letitia was tantalizingly just beyond his reach. Once he must have called her name in his sleep as Carmen soothed him and said that she and Martin had called that afternoon while he was asleep. On two occasions when he woke on the second afternoon he found that Anne was sitting quietly in the chair beside him. He found that very comforting.

  Thus it was that he felt well enough to get up on the Wednesday morning. After a good breakfast and shower he seated himself in the lounge room and felt clear headed enough to take an interest in his surroundings.

  What nagged at him now was the knowledge that he and Carmen were booked to return to Cairns on Friday morning.

  ‘Only forty eight hours! And I still haven’t won with Letitia! What can I say, or do, to get her to be my girl?’

  He puzzled over that for hours. Then, when he was allowed to go out that afternoon, he started to put his plan into action. But to his annoyance he was unable to take action that day. Martin had been sick too and he was not allowed to stay up late. Nor was Andrew allowed out that night. Aunty Bev had been adamant. So he sat in front of the TV feeling intensely frustrated. The evening had been enlivened by a visit from Mark and Jill.

  Curiously Andrew now felt no jealousy or desire for Jill. It was just pleasing to see them together again. Now that the gang was no longer a threat Jill was allowed to go out again. Carmen, Jacob Edwards and Anne were also there. It gave an opportunity for Andrew to learn what Mark had done at the camp in the swamp.

  “When I saw you captured I nearly gave myself away,” Mark explained. “Then, when that Troy called out that his black-haired mate will be around somewhere and ran over to check the kayaks, I nearly cacked myself.”

  “What did you do? I thought he would catch you for sure,” Andrew said.

  “So did I! But I just slid underwater and slipped in under one of the kayaks. Luckily he didn’t notice the water moving but I have never been so scared in all my life,” Mark said. “The worst thing was that I didn’t know if he was still there or not. I had stirred up lots of mud and bubbles and thought he might be waiting for me to surface. So I stayed under as long as I could.”

  “Why didn’t you swim away underwater?” Andrew asked.

  Mark shook his head. “I thought of that. But the water was too shallow and I was wedged in under a kayak. So I just stayed under as long as I could. When I came up he was gone.”

  “He was busy trying to get the others to pack up and move,” Andrew commented.

  Mark nodded. “I know. I heard him. Then he grabbed that bag and the sack Jay had delivered and came striding over to the kayaks again. I just ducked under and waited. I could feel when he dumped the bags in the kayak. So I waited again, and when I surfaced he was in the first tent packing things.”

  Mark paused for a moment, then went on, “I had been wondering how to rescue you but decided I had no chance while they had that shotgun. So I reasoned that, if they knew there were more of us around, they wouldn’t do too much to you.”

  Andrew shuddered as the memory of being hauled to the swamp and tossed in with his hands tied behind his back by Forman came back to him with physical force. “Forman tried to drown us out of revenge,” he said.

  Mark looked serious. “Yes, I know that now. Sorry. I didn’t think they’d do anything. And I reckoned that if I took their canoes they would be easier for the police to catch. So I just tied one kayak to the other and pulled them out into the backwater. One of them had a paddle in it so I got aboard and headed for the river,” he explained.

  Andrew’s face split into a grin. “You should have seen their faces when they discovered the kayaks gone! I thought Forman would completely do his block. He gave us both a good kicking, then dragged us over to the swamp and tossed us in.”

  Mark did not know the details of this but Andrew glossed over it, except to point out that both he and Martin had their hands tied behind their backs and had nearly drowned, and that Shaun had pulled them out.

  Mark looked thoughtful. “Then you rescued the right one,” he commented. Andrew nodded and bit his lip as he relived those awful minutes at the weir when the gang had been swept to their doom.

  After a pause Andrew asked: “What was in the bags? They yelled something about the loot after you had taken the kayaks.”

  Mark grinned. “I didn’t realize it till the police checked. It was all the jewellery and money they had burgled over the previous couple of months. There was about ten thousand in cash and the cops said the jewellery was worth much more.”

  “That will please the owners,” Andrew replied.

  Jill then interrupted to ask how Martin was. Carmen answered that. “He is up and about. He was even sicker than Andrew. It is his second bout of Ross River Fever and apparently it has really knocked him.”

  “We must go over and see him,” Andrew said.

  Carmen gave him a sad look, then shook her head. “Not today. We will organize it for tomorrow evening. I have a little present I would like to give him.”

  So it was arranged. That sent Andrew into a bit of a dither. Only one evening to succeed with Letitia! ‘What can I hope to achieve in that short time?’ he fretted.

  He was still wondering this when, twenty four hours later, he walked up the front drive of the Schipholl’s with Carmen, Jacob, Anne, Mark and Jill. Under his arm he carried two small boxes, the product o
f a shopping expedition earlier in the day. All the others carried gifts as well. Snuggled in Carmen’s arms was a baby Beagle puppy. Jill had a kitten in a box and Mark carried a bird cage with two budgerigars in it, one blue and one green.

  Mrs Schipholl showed them in. She was very pleased to see them and immediately offered them drinks and snacks. Martin came out to join them. Andrew looked around for Letitia. When she appeared from the kitchen his heart did a little skip and he gave her his best smile. She smiled back and walked over to join them. ‘Oh she is beautiful!’ he thought. She wore jeans and a loose cotton top which was as much revealing as concealing.

  Martin was greeted with presents. Carmen was spokesperson: “These are for the whole family, in thanks for giving us a really interesting holiday.” She held out the squirming puppy. “He doesn’t have a name yet.”

  Martin’s face lit up. He reached out and took the puppy and cuddled him. The puppy looked up with big, liquid, brown eyes and wagged its tail. It snuffled at Martin’s hand and licked it. Martin’s face suffused with joy. He looked up and cried: “Oh thank you! Oh Mum! Isn’t he beaut! Can I keep him please Mum?”

  Mrs Schipholl smiled and nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. (Only later did Andrew discover that Carmen had phoned her to see if the presents were acceptable before buying them).

  Letitia cried in delight and reached over to stroke the puppy. “Oh isn’t he wonderful. We should call him Snoopy Two.”

  “Do you mean ‘Snoopy the Second’ or Snoopy also?” Martin replied. He lifted the puppy up to look him in the eyes. The puppy wriggled his legs and wagged his tail. Martin turned him around to study him and then said, “No, I’d like to call him ‘Spot’. See this big brown spot on his back?”