water
was actually the sails of a small boat which was heading directly
for Faraway , his relief turned
to sheer joy. For the first time since he had been a small boy, Joe
closed his eyes and unashamedly gave thanks to God.
His kneeling position soon became almost
unbearable and Joe was afraid he would pass out again. But he tried
desperately to ignore the pain, determined to make his presence
known to his rescuers as soon as they came within earshot. Then,
when the boat was very close, Joe’s knees gave way beneath him and
he fell heavily on his broken arm. Beside himself with pain, he lay
doubled up on his side until mercifully he lost consciousness
again.
*
‘This boat’s a goner, mate. Her planking’s
been split and she takin’ on water. And she was shot up bad before
she was dismasted by the looks of it. Apart from the petrol I’ve
siphoned from her tank and the Walther I found in the cabin,
there’s nothin’ here worth takin. It’s almost like someone already
took everything worth havin’.'
The man’s words were loud and clear, shouted
out at the top of his voice. Joe had regained consciousness just
moments before. He listened in stunned disbelief. Above him through
the gap in the canvas he could see two big calloused feet standing
on the staved-in wheelhouse roof.
‘Then put what you’ve got in the dinghy and
get back over here quick,’ a distant voice called out over the
water. ‘Let’s get outta here before our boat gets tangled up with
that bloody wreck.’
‘What about the poor bastard in the
wheelhouse?’
‘I thought you said he was as good as
dead.’
‘He is.’
‘Then leave ‘im. There’s nothing we can do.
We can’t be luggin’ a dead man all over the Gulf. Come on, Henry.
Get in the dinghy ’
Joe saw the feet disappear from above him.
Somehow he struggled back onto his knees and stuck his head out of
the hole in the canvas. ‘Hey, you... Come back … please...’
Joe didn’t get to finish his plea. The
two huge calloused feet returned and one of them smashed down on
his head like an enormous mallet. It was several minutes before he
could get to his knees again in a final desperate bid for survival.
But it was too late. By then the man had returned to his yacht. It
was an old sloop. As it sailed away Joe saw two long-haired men
sitting in the cockpit with their backs turned to him. Beneath them
on the transom he just made out the words: Groote Eylandt Lady.
CHAPTER NINE
For national security reasons, General
Douglas MacArthur’s arrival in the Top End of Australia had been
veiled in secrecy. But when the American general left South
Australia aboard the Adelaide Express for Melbourne, John Curtin
was quick to bolster his own political support and the flagging
morale of the Australian public by announcing the Supreme
Commander’s impending arrival at Spencer Street Station. When the
train pulled in, thousands of people turned out in glorious
sunshine to greet him.
MacArthur stepped down from the train, calm,
confident and immaculate in a smart cotton uniform and sunglasses,
looking every inch the conquering hero. He was officially met by
the Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for War, Frank Forde, and a
contingent of senior Australian and US military officers. When
assailed by newspaper reporters, MacArthur smiled and said, ‘I am
glad indeed to be in immediate cooperation with the Australian
soldier. I knew him well from the Great War and I admire him
greatly. I have every confidence in the ultimate success of our
joint cause. But success in warfare requires more than courage. It
requires careful preparation, and the provision of all necessary
men and materials with which to fight the enemy. No general can
make something of nothing. My success or failure will depend on the
resources put at my disposal. But I shall do my best.’
Outside the station the crowds waved and
cheered as MacArthur inspected a two hundred and fifty man guard of
honor, then
was actually the sails of a small boat which was heading directly
for Faraway , his relief turned
to sheer joy. For the first time since he had been a small boy, Joe
closed his eyes and unashamedly gave thanks to God.
His kneeling position soon became almost
unbearable and Joe was afraid he would pass out again. But he tried
desperately to ignore the pain, determined to make his presence
known to his rescuers as soon as they came within earshot. Then,
when the boat was very close, Joe’s knees gave way beneath him and
he fell heavily on his broken arm. Beside himself with pain, he lay
doubled up on his side until mercifully he lost consciousness
again.
*
‘This boat’s a goner, mate. Her planking’s
been split and she takin’ on water. And she was shot up bad before
she was dismasted by the looks of it. Apart from the petrol I’ve
siphoned from her tank and the Walther I found in the cabin,
there’s nothin’ here worth takin. It’s almost like someone already
took everything worth havin’.'
The man’s words were loud and clear, shouted
out at the top of his voice. Joe had regained consciousness just
moments before. He listened in stunned disbelief. Above him through
the gap in the canvas he could see two big calloused feet standing
on the staved-in wheelhouse roof.
‘Then put what you’ve got in the dinghy and
get back over here quick,’ a distant voice called out over the
water. ‘Let’s get outta here before our boat gets tangled up with
that bloody wreck.’
‘What about the poor bastard in the
wheelhouse?’
‘I thought you said he was as good as
dead.’
‘He is.’
‘Then leave ‘im. There’s nothing we can do.
We can’t be luggin’ a dead man all over the Gulf. Come on, Henry.
Get in the dinghy ’
Joe saw the feet disappear from above him.
Somehow he struggled back onto his knees and stuck his head out of
the hole in the canvas. ‘Hey, you... Come back … please...’
Joe didn’t get to finish his plea. The
two huge calloused feet returned and one of them smashed down on
his head like an enormous mallet. It was several minutes before he
could get to his knees again in a final desperate bid for survival.
But it was too late. By then the man had returned to his yacht. It
was an old sloop. As it sailed away Joe saw two long-haired men
sitting in the cockpit with their backs turned to him. Beneath them
on the transom he just made out the words: Groote Eylandt Lady.
CHAPTER NINE
For national security reasons, General
Douglas MacArthur’s arrival in the Top End of Australia had been
veiled in secrecy. But when the American general left South
Australia aboard the Adelaide Express for Melbourne, John Curtin
was quick to bolster his own political support and the flagging
morale of the Australian public by announcing the Supreme
Commander’s impending arrival at Spencer Street Station. When the
train pulled in, thousands of people turned out in glorious
sunshine to greet him.
MacArthur stepped down from the train, calm,
confident and immaculate in a smart cotton uniform and sunglasses,
looking every inch the conquering hero. He was officially met by
the Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for War, Frank Forde, and a
contingent of senior Australian and US military officers. When
assailed by newspaper reporters, MacArthur smiled and said, ‘I am
glad indeed to be in immediate cooperation with the Australian
soldier. I knew him well from the Great War and I admire him
greatly. I have every confidence in the ultimate success of our
joint cause. But success in warfare requires more than courage. It
requires careful preparation, and the provision of all necessary
men and materials with which to fight the enemy. No general can
make something of nothing. My success or failure will depend on the
resources put at my disposal. But I shall do my best.’
Outside the station the crowds waved and
cheered as MacArthur inspected a two hundred and fifty man guard of
honor, then
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