Читать книгу Bass Point Boys - Cate Beresford - Страница 3

The stairs seemed to provide a haven for Roy. No one seemed to notice him there, tucked into the hillside, where bottlebrush grew wild and hid him easily. Though he ventured back to the gravelled beach each day, as he closed his eyes at night, Roy could hear the roar of the ocean waves as they washed over the rock platform and he'd smell the salty air, feeling a comfort. Even the bush flowers which protected the entrance, reminded him of his mum’s native garden.

The littoral rainforest of Bass Point Reserve had a diverse, unique natural landscape and its closed forest, influenced by the marine environment which surrounded it, somehow survived, in the harshest of conditions.

The area had been named after George Bass who explored the Illawarra area in 1791. It has also been mentioned in Captain James Cook’s journals as he sailed past the region in 1770. Some say, if he’d landed, it would have been his first in Australia before Botany Bay. Archaeological evidence indicated that Aboriginal people occupied Bass Point Reserve for some 20,000 years prior to the arrival of European settlers where shell middens over six thousand years old were found. (²)

After two weeks sheltering in the harsh terrain, Roy began to wander further from the safety of the stairs. It was coming up to winter and most of the campers didn’t stay in the rough camp at the Bay during this season, so there were fewer people around.

Without the sounds of family and kids, Roy began to feel more isolated and lonely. The food supplies his mum had packed were running low and though he’d tried to ration what there was, knew that unless he found another source, he’d go hungry.

Roy knew when he first sought shelter in the area that Bass Point Reserve also concealed a teenage gang. He’d heard about a group of teenage kids who hung out together, surfed Cowries and The Shallows, and lived in nearby bush. He’d seen them wandering around on occasions and stayed hidden, observing their routine. The gang seemed to sleep until late morning, so Roy would venture out during these periods, down to the point where tourists strolled, and read about the history of the shipwrecks. He almost knew the plaque by heart and could almost recite it word for word.

The Cities Service Boston had sunk there during wartime. Roy read that the ship was cruising up the coastline and decided to hug the shore to avoid submarine attacks. Due to cyclonic winds and high seas, the ship ran aground at Bass Point.

The nearby Six Marine Gun Battalion has assisted in saving some of the crew, though many lives were still lost. He also read about another ship called the Bertha had been shipwrecked, along with several others, in the water which surrounded the point. Although the Bertha hadn’t been found, divers often snorkelled the area, looking for marine-life and signs of the wreckage.

Roy often pretended to be one of the kids of the tourists and would tag along, hanging back so as not to be noticed. Increasingly, he was looking like a runaway as dirtied clothes and smell gave away his real persona and eventually one of the members of the gang caught on.

That night, he was woken violently as the group surrounded him, intimidating, while the leader emptied the contents of his bag onto the ground. Roy didn’t resist as two members pinned him down and the leader rummaged through, mocking its contents.

‘Oh look, boys, here’s a blankie. And an apple.’

The leader took a bite and threw it to one of the others.

‘Oh, and look at this, a teddy, how cute.'

The gang members laughed and mocked him as Roy watched through gritted teeth. His mum had packed a few things to remind him of home but now they lay bare in front of him, as though it was his whole life.

As he held the bear up and shook it violently, the leader laughed as the stash of what cash he had left fell from a hole in the bottom where he’d pulled away a few stitches and stuffed the notes inside.

'Oh looky here, what have we found?'

Throwing the bear at Roy, after scooping out the contents, the leader snickered as he stuffed the money in his pocket.

'This is down payment on your life, sucker. You can either join us and get some paid back, or we'll come here every night and beat you to a pulp. Take your choice.’

He threw the bag back to Roy, who gathered the few contents and stashed them back inside. Devoid of dignity and most everything else, the leader then waited while he made the choice.

‘It’s the only way,’ he said. ‘If you want to survive, you have to join us.’

Reluctant to give into their demands, Roy shook his head and the leader laughed.

‘That’s OK. Most of ‘em say that. But you’ll eventually give in.’

They turned and walked back into the darkness as Roy climbed back under the stairs. Unable to sleep, he decided he needed to find a better hiding place and vowed to search the next day.

At first, Roy tried moving to different spots where the brush was thicker. Like a wombat digging its burrow, Roy used his hands to dredge the dirt away and bunkered in. Then he’d use what scrub he could to drag over the top of him, but each night the gang always found him and would drag him out and beat him up.

After seven more nights of, harassment and beatings, Roy gave in. His eyes were blackened from the beatings and every bone ached. His stomach longed for food and he hadn’t slept since they first found him. Roy decided it would be easier to give in to survive - and so, he became a one of the group of misfits.

Joining a gang wasn’t something he would have thought of doing a few months before. When he was at school, one tried to force him into enlisting, but he’d managed to convince them he wasn’t the right fit. It cost him a few lunches but eventually, they gave up and left him alone. But out here, with no other friends, Roy was alone and exposed, and the leader knew it. Each member had lived rough in the bush of Bass Point, trying to avoid becoming members until they too, would eventually give in, realising it was a kinship and source of food.

Bass Point was a seventy-two hectare stretch of national park and though it had long since overgrown, was protected for the moment; though the gang knew their days were numbered once some builder came up with enough cash.

Most had either been rebellious teens, beaten by a parent, spent time in juvenile justice for petty theft or joyriding, or were victims of the system where a paedophile had gone under the radar and used it to find their next prey. They kept to themselves and most locals ignored them.

A month after joining, Roy heard that one of the youngest of the gang members was almost killed as he pushed his way across a roundabout in the nearby village on a motorised scooter he’d stolen. A local driving through hadn’t seen him and had collected the scooter as the kid sped out in front.

Scattered on the road, he’d landed heavily on top of the car and had broken and arm and leg. The kid was carted off to hospital but was released into the local foster care. The accident was a lesson for the rest of them to stay off the roads in the middle of the day when the wrinklies were about.

A local organisation ran the foster support and whilst families where kids were placed were friendly and supportive, sporadically a kid would rebel. Feeling life had dealt them a raw deal, they ran away to join the gang.

The Bass Point Boys grew quickly as society seemed to turn their back on kids when they were at their most vulnerable and needed love and support. The system couldn’t cope, youth services were overflowing and less people were becoming foster parents. That’s where they were picked up and taken under the gang’s wing. Vulnerable and sobbing, they would be curled up on a gutter near their home or under the shelter of a bus-stop nearby. The gang would surround and bully the kid, like they’d done with Roy. The leader had his script down pat.

‘Hey kid, you know no one loves you. Why else would they throw you out? You may as well join us where we will protect you. If you don’t, you get beaten up by the other gangs round here. But we’re survivors.’

The recruitment happened regularly, and younger kids believed their parents wouldn’t take them back. Once the leader found what they’d done, he’d say their parents wouldn’t forgive that kind of behaviour, but with the gang, they were safe - and so the gang grew, somehow surviving and finding brotherhood in one another’s wretchedness.