Читать книгу Davey Jones's Locker - C.R. Cummings - Страница 11

HOPES AND FEARS

That night Andrew had another diving nightmare. This time he dreamt he was down on the bottom of the sea in an old-fashioned diving suit. Something was wrong but he did not know what it was. It cost him an enormous effort to peer through the tiny glass portholes in the big brass helmet but all he could see were gloomy blue shadows. His fears grew, exacerbated by the rasping sound of his own breathing and the hiss of escaping air. Then he realized he could not move his right foot. By making a huge effort he was able to bend his body enough to look down. To his horror he saw that his right boot was firmly gripped by the jaws of a giant clam. In a desperate effort to get free he tugged at the rope to tell the men on the lugger to pull him up. They tried and tried but to no avail. By then Andrew was perspiring freely and on the edge of panic. Then he heard a peculiar hissing and gurgling noise and saw that his rubber air hose had come off and was drifting away. Before he could grab the hose it was out of reach.

‘Cover the inlet!’ his terrified mind cried, but his groping hands could not seem to find this. Water began to spurt and swirl into the helmet, stinging his eyes. In desperation he tried to block the flow- to no avail. He struggled frantically but the water rose above his mouth and nose, choking him.

Andrew woke up, bathed in sweat and with his blankets wrapped tightly around him. “Oh! Thank God!” he muttered, as he realized it was only a nightmare. For the next hour he lay awake, trying to will himself to think nice thoughts, about Muriel, or even about Letitia- but with limited success. The horror of the deep was upon him.

With it was the nagging fear that he still had those three dives to do, and no reasonable excuse to chicken out. ‘How will I ever face them?’ he wondered miserably.

Somehow he drifted off into a restless sleep, to wake feeling tired and drained. He took himself off to school, feeling deeply troubled. ‘Am I a coward?’ he wondered miserably. In an effort to drive all thoughts of diving out of his mind he concentrated on his school work and on being social with his friends.

But despite his efforts he found his mind continually returning to diving. During the lunch break he took himself to the library and did some reading up on the Second World War in the Pacific. It was an eye-opener to him, especially learning about the ferocious naval battles in the Coral Sea and among the Solomon Islands. That huge fleets of warships, even mighty Battleships, had clashed in vicious, close-range night battles off Guadalcanal really stirred his imagination.

The ‘Internet’ gave more information, then led him straight back to diving. Before he thought about it not being a good idea he had clicked on a site titled ‘Sunken Glory of Ironbottom Sound’. It was about divers exploring the wrecks of some of the warships sunk in that infamous strip of water. Seeing the barnacle and coral encrusted wrecks in colour both fascinated and alarmed him.

There was an article about an American transport, the President Coolidge, which had struck a mine in 1942 off the entrance to Luganville Harbour, Vanuatu. The wreck was in quite shallow water but just looking at the pictures made Andrew feel uneasy. Some of the photos showed divers right inside the huge ship: looking at the gauges in the engine room, and down in the hold.

‘I could never do that,’ he thought, deeply aware that there was a dark corner of his being that he did not even want to face. The fear of being trapped underwater lurked right on the surface of his conscious personality. ‘At least my diving course has nothing like that,’ he mused, his course being a basic ‘Open Water’ diving course.

Even though he wanted to drive the fears out and his rational mind told him to stop thinking about diving he found himself drawn to such information. It was as though he felt he had to face it, if only to prove to himself that he was not a coward. He also had to admit that the stories held a dreadful fascination.

In the City Library he found an old book titled ‘Ordeal by Water’, a World War 2 biography by Peter Keeble on Marine Salvage in the Red Sea and Mediterranean. It was full of interesting and grim facts about the dangers of diving back in those days of primitive equipment and limited knowledge. The very idea of crawling around inside a wreck in the dark, groping with his hands to locate dead bodies, repair damage and render booby traps safe was enough to make Andrew shudder. It certainly increased enormously his admiration for his grandfather.

‘How did he do it?’ he wondered.

Another concern to Andrew was his friend Graham Kirk. Graham was in 9B. The previous year the two had been quite good friends and Graham had joined the Navy Cadets as soon as he turned 13. What made Andrew think of that was hearing Peter Bronsky say to Graham, “Happy Birthday!”

On learning that it was Graham’s 14th birthday Andrew asked casually, “Are you having a party this year Graham?”

The response was a shake of the head and a look of such misery that Andrew thought for a moment that Graham was going to burst into tears. As the party the year before had been a big event that got him even more worried. Andrew remembered how Graham had a burning ambition to be a naval officer but had discovered that his eyes were not good enough. Graham had dropped out of Navy Cadets. The shattering of his dreams had sent Graham into a suicidal depression. Andrew had thought he was over that but now, looking at him, he wondered and worried. Unsure how to help, he left him to the company of his new friends: Peter, Stephen and Roger.

The bright spot in Andrew’s life was Muriel. She was not allowed to go to the movies (‘Too young for dates’ her parents insisted) but he was able to talk to her on the telephone every evening. These phone calls got longer and longer until, on Thursday night, his father put his foot down and told him to cut it short and to keep the chats to fifteen minutes ‘So other people can use the phone’.

They did not meet until Saturday afternoon. Usually the Navy Cadets met every Friday evening but that week the parade was a half day for sailing. As usual Andrew rode his bike to cadets with Carmen and Blake. All wore their ‘short white’ uniform but carried backpacks with ‘pirate rig’ (old clothes) for wearing while sailing. All the way Andrew found his heart all a-flutter with anxiety and anticipation, hoping that Muriel would still like him.

She did. Her genuine smile of welcome and bright, cheerful conversation immediately convinced him of that. Andrew’s spirits soared. ‘She is so pretty!’ he thought. From then on he used all his efforts to be nice to her and to try to impress her. The only dampener was when she asked if he was looking forward to their diving trip the next day.

Even just thinking about it made Andrew’s heart turn over with a lurch. ‘It will mean flooding my face mask again,’ he thought. The dive after that was even more daunting. That would involve completely removing the mask under water, then replacing and clearing it. Just thinking about it made Andrew feel sick in the stomach but he managed to make himself sound calm and enthusiastic.

To help take is mind off diving he concentrated his thoughts on sailing. Immediately after parade and roll call the cadets split into four person boat crews and set to work rigging their ‘Corsairs’. These worked best with a crew of three but there were more cadets than boats so the extra crew member was added to each. Andrew’s boat was captained by his ‘Divisional’ leader, Cadet Midshipman Bob Armstrong, a big, burly lad who Andrew really admired. The other members of the crew were Andrew, Muriel and Percy Parsons.

Having just spent two months of sailing almost every second day during the sailing competition with the army cadets (Read ‘Mudskipper Cup’) Andrew could have rigged the boat blindfolded. Thus theirs was the first boat on the water, followed closely by Carmen’s, crewed by an all-girl crew which included Shona, Jennifer and Tina Babcock. As soon as the safety boat was in the water and radios tested sails were hauled taut and the sailing practice commenced.

The afternoon was merely a simple training activity to familiarise recruits and Seamen with steering so for Andrew it was just a pleasant outing. He sat in the centre of the boat and held the jib sheet while Muriel took the tiller. That gave him plenty of time to think and look around. As the sailboat slipped quickly down the Inlet past the main city wharves he was vividly reminded of the photos in the old album. The taste of salt spray and the smell of the sea, mixed with a waft of diesel fumes from a passing launch, instantly brought to his mind the image of the tug Wallaman Falls.

‘This is where that photo of her turning at speed was taken,’ he decided, looking across the Inlet to the line of mountains that sheltered the port on the eastern side. That made him think of diving but he firmly resolved to not think about it and again concentrated on sailing.

In this he was only party successful, mainly because their course led them close along the eastern shore of the harbour. This took them past the beach at Giangurra and then across the end of the headlands at Bosuns Bay. Muriel wanted to go right into the small bay so that she could wave to her grandparents but Midshipman Armstrong vetoed this.

“The tide is on the ebb,” he pointed out, “And there are too many rocks for my liking.”

“This is where we went SCUBA diving last weekend,” Muriel explained, “And that is my Gran’s.”

That just brought back memories of being scared underwater, and of causing embarrassment to Muriel’s Grandparents. ‘That photo certainly caused Old Mr Murchison to have a bad turn,’ Andrew mused. Once again he tried to change the thoughts in his mind by thinking about Muriel. At every opportunity, when it would not appear he was doing so, he studied her and hoped. That helped but so did the requirement for some tricky tacking to avoid a shoal of semi-submerged rocks off the next point.

Andrew then refocussed his thoughts on admiring Muriel, noting her clear, tanned skin, firm jaw, bright eyes and short brown hair being whipped around her ears by the wind. ‘She is really pretty,’ he thought. ‘I mustn’t upset or annoy her.’ He began to consider how he could move their friendship forward.

The voyage took them right out to False Cape. Andrew had been past there before when sailing and stared up with new interest at the old World War 2 coast defence gun positions in the scrub. His reading gave him a new appreciation of their place. ‘I must visit them for a closer look,’ he thought, his gaze travelling up the long ridge studded with trees and bushes and noting several man-made structures as it did.

Only when they were level with the end of the cape and encountering the larger waves sweeping in from beyond Cape Grafton did they turn back. As they did Muriel pointed out to sea. “I can see Green Island,” she cried.

Andrew shielded his eyes and looked. As the sailboat rose on the crest of the next wave he clearly saw the flat, grey-green shape that marked the coral island. It was a sight he had often seen before, but this time it caused his stomach to turn over again.

Muriel made it worse by saying to Cadet Midshipman Armstrong, “We are going diving there tomorrow. It will be great fun, don’t you think Andrew?”

Andrew could only nod and grin, then despise himself for being a weakling and a coward. He was ashamed of being scared of going underwater, and also depressed at not having the moral courage to tell the truth. ‘Only three more SCUBA dives,’ he consoled himself. ‘Then I will never have to do it again.’ Knowing that the water off Green Island was usually crystal clear and not all that deep helped him to calm his growing anxiety.

His apprehension grew as the afternoon and evening wore on. It even overshadowed the pleasure at being with Muriel and of knowing he would be with her most of the following day. It made him tense and snappy and she twice frowned at him, causing him to silently curse himself for being a weakling and a fool.

That night he had another nightmare. This one began well enough; with him sailing on the deck of a large yacht. Somehow the yacht shrank to a Corsair, then to a tiny, single-sail ‘Sabot’. By then the vessel had sailed rapidly out of a harbour past mangroves and into deeper water where the waves became increasingly large. Then the Sabot became a sailboard and Andrew was drenched by spray and cold. By then he was scared and trying to turn back to the shore, which now looked to be a dismayingly long way off. In the same frustrating way the sailboard slipped under and he found himself in the water. As a strong current swept him on out to sea and into larger and larger waves he began to panic. Somehow he found himself under water and looking frantically in all directions for a huge shark that had materialized.

He woke up feeling tired and anxious, a sick feeling in his stomach. As he lay there he considered saying he was sick as an excuse not to go diving but when Carmen came to the door of his bedroom, all cheerful and raring to go, he could not summon the courage to lie. Instead he smiled back and dragged himself out of bed, dreading the day.

By 9:00 am he and Carmen were on a large ‘Quickcat’ ferry heading out from the Cairns wharves. With them were Sub Lt Sheldon, PO Walker, Muriel, Blake, Shona and Luke Karaku, a Torres Strait Islander. Both Andrew and Carmen had been to Green Island several times before over the years, as had Muriel, but neither Blake nor Shona had been. Andrew tried to take his mind off the coming ordeal by focusing on nautical things like how the big, powered catamaran handled the waves and by talking to Muriel. Even so he became increasingly tense as the flat outline of the island appeared over the horizon, then seemed to slide inexorably closer.

Muriel stood at the front rail laughing and relishing the occasional showers of spray. Her eyes danced with the joy of living and she cried happily, “It’s a perfect day!”

It was. It was North Queensland winter at its best- real ‘Tourist weather’. The sun shone. The sea sparkled. The wind was just cool enough to make Andrew wish he had a pullover on. The dozens of tourists all wore casual ‘tropical’ clothes, as did the friends. Among the tourists were many very attractive female ‘backpackers’. Some of these wore very skimpy bikinis or short, revealing clothing that got Andrew both interested and then ashamed.

For a while the waves were quite large but Andrew was a good sailor and merely enjoyed them. He was also interested to watch a large bulk carrier making its way north along the ‘inshore route’ inside the Barrier Reef. By the time it had ‘sunk’ to hull-down in the distance the launch was nearly at Green Island. As the launch nosed in through an opening in the reef Andrew stared hard at the shallow water on either side. As always he was astounded at how clear the water was. The transition from the deep blue water in the channel to the pale green, almost clear water over the coral sand he found amazing.

At 10:00 the Quickcat edged in to tie up at the long concrete finger pier that jutted out for 500 metres from the island. Green Island itself was just a low, flat sandy cay; covered with trees and buildings. A narrow strip of white sandy beach showed between the trees and the water. The group disembarked with the other passengers and then walked in along the pier. As they did Andrew kept looking over the side at the brown patches of coral that showed clearly on the sandy bottom.

‘It looks nice and clear,’ he told himself, trying to build up his confidence.

At the end of the jetty they were met by a man who had their equipment. This was being hired for the day and there was a half hour of trying things on for fit. Having endured a pair of fins that did not fit properly during the pool training Andrew made sure he had ones that did. It had been astonishing to him quickly the rubbing had developed into quite sharp agony!

The first swim was to be with a snorkel instead of SCUBA. That suited Andrew. He had been snorkelling before and could cope with that, as long as they stayed in shallow water near the shore. Even so he was so anxious he barely had time to appreciate Muriel’s female form as she pulled her wet suit on over her bathers. Then they were walking down the beach, fins in hand. As they waded in beside the end of the pier Andrew could not stop himself from continually looking out towards the encircling dark blue water, his mind trying to suppress thoughts of sharks and other creatures.

‘At least it isn’t the ‘Stinger Season’,’ he thought. During the period from October to May each year deadly jellyfish sometimes infested the coastal waters, making swimming in the sea a hazardous activity.

The water still felt cold- at least to a person acclimatized to the tropics. Andrew was glad to lower himself in out of the wind. After spitting in his facemask and then rinsing it he adjusted it for a good fit. Then, with an answering smile to Muriel, he slid forward in the water. Side by side they swam out into deeper water. The bottom shelved very gradually so that even a hundred metres from the beach it was still only about 5 metres deep. There was very little marine life and the few outcrops of coral were unimpressive. Andrew saw a few tiny grey fish, then a larger one, then a few tiny blue and black striped ones before finally spotting a really pretty coral sunfish. For a few seconds he admired its bright yellow stripes before the movement of another snorkeller sent it flitting away among the coral rocks.

The proximity of dozens of other snorkellers was both a comfort and a source of irritation to Andrew. Apart from their own group the tourist launches had brought many others, including several large groups of Japanese. Because of his fear of sharks Andrew kept glancing out towards the deeper water and also tried to make sure that other swimmers were between him and the open ocean. He deliberately lingered in the shallower water until Muriel swam on. Then he felt compelled to follow.

The actual snorkelling he enjoyed. To try to prove to himself that he wasn’t really scared he deliberately made himself dive down to the bottom and then practice snorting his snorkel clear when he returned to the surface. The only part of that he did not enjoy was the rattling, sucking sound of the water drops which remained in the tube after he had blown most of the water out.

They snorkelled for half an hour, swimming out almost to the end of the pier and then back in again. As they swam slowly back on the other side of the pier Andrew felt his nervousness increase. The next dive was upon him!