Читать книгу Cull - Stafford Ray - Страница 18

Diesels do that; they just keep chugging along, the old ones leaving trails of smoke. Worn rings produce blue smoke; worn injector system and it’s black. This boat had both, but she still clanked and clonked and wheezed along as she had done for years.

Lin Poi had taken days to become accustomed to using the bucket. The lack of real privacy depressed her spirits, but the children were thriving, playing games on deck with other children and being fed well, despite the cramped cooking facility. The old trawler had only a two-burner methylated spirit stove but the women worked well together. The men were given watches, two at a time to navigate and keep a lookout for other vessels.

Loi was fascinated by the GPS plotter as the little icon crept across the coloured map, winding between the islands, gradually moving south at seven knots.

Radar was rare on such fishing trawlers, but this one worked and was set on maximum range.

“Look at these.” Loi pointed to dots on the screen as the captain arrived in the wheelhouse. “I’ve been watching them for a couple of hours and they all seem to be going our way.”

“Mmmm,” he answered. “I knew Thang bought a few boats, but there must be hundreds here.” He looked at the screen for a while. “Maybe there was more than one ‘Thang’!” he mused as he went to his chart table and withdrew a map of the Indonesian archipelago, then pored over the detail before returning to Loi.

“How many boats do you reckon?”

Loi looked again but had already made his estimate. “Two hundred, two hundred and fifty.”

“And they’re the ones in range!”

He stared for a few moments at the screen. “I don’t like the idea of all these people arriving in Australian waters together,” he grumbled. “It could get nasty!”

With that, he went forward, shaking the sleeping men and leading them aft until all were assembled. He then called Loi from his station to join them.

“You too, Loi,” he called softly. “We have at least half an hour of clear sea, so come here. We need to decide a few things.”

With a following breeze, smoke hung around the aft deck, stinging eyes and insulting noses. The men gathered around the captain, hunkering down as they all sought to avoid the fumes.

“We’re about halfway to Java,” he pointed off the port bow. “Those lights are on Anambas Island.” He looked around the ghostly faces, lit only by reflections from the steaming light and red from the wheelhouse night light. “Those pyramids of light are Indonesian gas wells and that’s my worry.”

“I don’t expect any trouble from the land, but as you probably noticed from the GPS plotter, we are closer to Malaysia than we are to Indonesia.” He pointed to a chandelier of lights ahead. “Those guys are likely to be on the lookout for Malaysian pirates and they’re armed.” He looked ahead as if he could see the guns.

“They have radar and they’ll be aware we are here, so whoever’s on watch, stay on course until we’re about five miles out, then steer away so they can see we’re not a threat.” He paused to think. The others waited.

“And the authorities will know we’re here and they’ll want to know why, right?”

He sounded concerned. “With so many boats on the water they’re sure to do something.”

“What are you suggesting?” came a voice from the dark.

“Haven’t decided,” he answered. “But if we’re boarded, is there anyone here who speaks Bahasa?”

“Yes,” replied a small bearded man. “I’ve lived in Indonesia.”

“OK then; you’re the spokesman. You say we’re just passing through to Australia, we have no guns and no plans to stop. OK?”

“OK, but won’t they take us in? When I was there they did.”

“Hey,” laughed the captain. “Who needs this many people clogging up the system, and I bet we weren’t the first boats Thang got away!”

“Right,” he laughed. “And they just love sticking it up the Australians!”

They all laughed softly, not wanting to wake the women and children sleeping on whatever they could find about the steamy deck, fitting in, curled up on old nets and tarpaulins between winches, gear boxes and hatches.

“We’ve been making about a hundred and sixty miles a day, so we could be near Java in about three days and that’s where we’re sure to get some attention. But it could happen any time,” he warned. “So watch the radar. As soon as you see a blip heading our way, get the women and children below, hove-to, look friendly and talk.”

The bearded man nodded and shifted his position. He wasn’t confident he could pull it off. He knew what they were like. The captain noted his discomfort and spoke directly to him. “We’ll time it to pass through the strait at night, so that helps our chances.” He turned to include the others. “But that’s not what I wanted to ask you.”

They waited.

“I’m worried that the Australians might start shooting; too many boats. What do you think? Anyone been there or know anything?”

“Lin Poi said that,” Loi offered. “She said that before we started and I agree. They might, but what can we do?”

“We had planned to go to Christmas Island; most boats do, right?”

Th

ey nodded, red ghosts with no eyes.

“So let’s check the fuel and see where else we could go; but not Ashmore Island either, I bet half of them will head there.”

“So what is there?”

“OK,” he replied, pointing to the chart he held rolled up in his left hand. “With so many boats to intercept, I reckon we could make it to the mainland. The question is; where?”

Loi spoke first. “We’re planning on Sydney. There are people I know…”

They laughed.

He clarified. “I know, I know, it’s too far, but that’s where we’ll go eventually.”

“OK,” the captain said. “You’re saying we need to land near transport.” He looked around the group. “But if we go into a town together, police will round us up in minutes, but on the other hand, if we come in at night and disperse we’re more likely to avoid detection until we can get transport out.”

He tapped the map again. “There aren’t many big towns in range with transport, so it’s Darwin, Broome or Dampier. What about Darwin?” Suddenly a powerful search light flooded the boat, waking the sleeping women and children and shocking the men to a standing position. The captain stumbled towards the controls.

A burst of machine gun fire swept above them, pinging off the rig as the captain pulled the lever to stop and stepped back into the light, hands in the air.