The rumble of the engines slowly grew to a roar and Peter tensed up, pressing himself into the seat. The plane trembled with the throbbing power of the jets and his chair vibrated. He may have understood the basic principles of Frank Whipple’s invention and what a boon it was to air travel. That comprehension didn’t make the anticipation of a stomach upsurge any less.
“You alright Pete?” Lampie’s question cut through the growing fear.
He swung his eyes from out of the rigid concentration on the back of the seat in front him and swivelled around to the concerned face of his travelling companion. He gave what he optimistically considered a cheery and brave smile, displaying all the pluck and fortitude of a modern day Biggles. Perhaps that wasn’t a success. Lampie fumbled in the pouch to her front, pulled out a plastic vomit bag and thrust it across to him.
“If y’ need it Pete, and try not to miss – it’s a long flight to Brissie and I’m not sharing with a ‘Chuckles the Wonder Chunderer’!”
Great, so much for sympathy. He took the proffered bag and tucked it into a space on his left. He could have explained that it wasn’t the take off that disturbed his equilibrium but the turbulence and landings. Not that Lampie was presently in a listening mood – her frown gave away as much. He could understand that the last week had, if anything, been more trying that the expedition to find the castle and the tomb. What with the long, long interviews with the police and then sorting out a myriad of complex matters with the WA Heritage people and the Museum – they were salivating to get hold of the tomb site and he’d been asked/requested, as well as heavied to sign a whole host of documents, waivers and disclaimers. He had almost wished they’d been a lot less successful. That would have meant less paperwork. What do they say – if wishes were fishes? It had proved Bartleby’s prosaic warning that any discovery automatically generated several times its own weight in forms. Peter feigned exhaustion and ignorance after the British consul stepped in to assist him and ‘forgot’ to sign anything. No doubt the Western Australian and Australian Commonwealth laws would apply and the main site was in a listed national park, as well as under the local Koori Land Council, adding further layers of complication. If that vast collection of competing authorities wasn’t sufficient, his ploy of adding the Vatican and UNESCO had brought a few more interested parties into the debate. Peter wasn’t sure how that was going to work out, but the more involved, the less that could be hidden and the less chance for any potential Wallace’s to crop up.
Ahh yes, that reminder hit a nerve. The police had been very insistent when it came to any part of the interview that fringed upon that particular gentleman. During the proceedings, a few other suited interviewers called Jeff and Michael sat in and took copious notes whenever Wallace was mentioned. All Peter could surmise was that how do they put it? ‘Wallace was a person of interest in a number of areas’. As to where the avid collector was, no one seemed to have a clear idea. His vessel had vanished soon after the helicopter incident. Peter had been nonplussed – how could anyone loose a white cruiser almost the size of a battleship? Apparently they had. So Mr Wallace had vanished, along with most of his surviving goons, into the void of the Timor Sea. So the police were left with no witnesses. Even the couple ‘helping’ Sid had run off in a spare RIB or so Sid claimed, while the wounded goon below the tomb had been ‘rescued’ by his companions. Despite the fact that they’d been trying to kill them, Peter felt a twinge of compassion for that guy. He’d read accounts of wounded soldiers suffering from lung injuries slowly drowning in blood and fluid. Not a pleasant way to go, and he wasn’t sure that Mr Wallace’s worker’s comprehensive insurance was going to cover rifle shots to the chest. The poor fellow’s chance of making any hospital in the Kimberleys or anywhere else was pretty remote.
That section of the interview also touched on the ‘reported’ fate of the two who chased them down Prince Regents River. The tinnie had been found along with the occupants’ equipment, but bodies…well the constable from Derby reckoned they’d been stashed somewhere in the mangroves to ‘ripen up’. No one seemed particularly interested in conducting a search so that part of the report was accepted on face value. Peter had heard two of the investigators crack a joke about the missing goons ‘surfacing’ in a week or so. He hadn’t really wanted to think about that.
In all, it had been a very eventful couple of weeks and it all stemmed from a phone call from Sid. Ahh yes in any disaster always look for the Sid factor. His good old Aussie mate had been kept back for ‘further’ enquiries by the local constabulary. Peter wished them luck. He’d scanned Sid’s emails before they left Deception Bay and there was precious little linking him to anything deliberately illegal – lots and lots of grey though.
One of the news programs played him up for a few days as the brave local who was help captive by unscrupulous artefact thieves and as the original discoverer. Peter thought the first part, a load of absolute bollocks, and the second part, well he had to admit to mixed feelings. Yes, Sid undoubtedly was the discoverer of the first pre Dutch European site. However, ahh yes, he liked using however for this, that fame was significantly marred by later events and the taint he seemed to have picked up by association. Sid’s many side deals had come back to bite him, with the Museum taking a closer look at all the pieces he’d found for them. The other significant decline in Sid’s fortune was sitting in the plane beside him, Lampie.
Miss Yvette Ginevre du Chesney Lampierre, site surveyor and extremely attractive heroine, his shot of her guarding the tomb, dirt smeared, with a loose lock of blonde hair and sighting along her rifle had been splashed all over the news papers and television. The media had gone on a veritable frenzy, a fact which Lampie viewed with slightly nervous disdain.
As he watched her part in the discovery being played up, Peter was quietly amused. He automatically slipped into film analogy – her charm, bountiful features and bushie characteristics struck the same chord in the Aussie psyche as ‘Crocodile Dundee’’. Truthfully, he had no qualms at all in according her the credit for getting them there. Several times he would have been turned into an exotic snack for the wildlife if not for Lampie – though he did have a sneaking suspicion she’d found a constant source of amusement in his encounters with the ‘locals’ and enjoyed rescuing him from tooth, claw and fang – a fact which he had used to convince her to help out at the Gympie site. It was not that she was doing anything for the next month or so while Bast was undergoing extensive repairs. You know what they say, time and distance heal all wounds, and Lampie definitely needed both so she didn’t get tempted to ‘do over’ Sid.
Anyway he had a feeling that things could be a tad calmer on the east coast away from the fracas and hullabaloo over the ‘Kimberleys Templar Treasure’ and if Freddie’s emails were anything to go by, Peter really needed an expert in the Aussie countryside if he wanted to avoid any Adams’ complications at the Limberlost site.
While he was cogitating over the fortnight, the plane accelerated to the end of the runway and in a surge that pushed him back into the padding, leapt into the sky. There that didn’t feel so bad! He didn’t even have the urge to hiccup. Fairly soon the release seat belt sign flashed and Peter let out a deeply felt sigh and relaxed.
“Pete?”
He swung his attention back to Lampie. He hoped she noticed he hadn’t used the ‘VB’. She wore a faint smile as well as slight frown. He’d seen that look before, usually presaging a tricky question. He gave a speed review of any omissions, evasions or white lies that had cropped up over the past week. No, none immediately sprang to mind. So, relieved at being off the hook, he answered with an open smile and clear conscience.
“Yes Lampie?”
“Yeah, remember when we were in Sid’s tent that night, and you said Father Joachim had hinted at something important?”
Damn she had a good memory. “Yes?” Still open and honest or at least he desperately hoped it didn’t hold the slightest tremor that he felt.
“Well Pet
e, y’ see with all the carry on up there, it slipped my mind and except for the coffin of that templar knight, to you the rest of that stuff was just baubles and y’know I really don’t see you as a treasure kinda guy.”
“I’m not?” Tremor and quaver –damn, damn!
“Yeah Pete what did you say?” Lampie paused and tapped her lips with a very elegant finger. Peter watched entranced, like a mouse before a snake. “Oh yeah ‘an item worth a lot more than treasure to this country, if it still exists.’
“I didn’t?” Lots of tremor, lots of quavering – just watch out for whimper!
“No, you didn’t, so Wilks, spill it now or once we get to Brissie, I’ll catch the next flight back to Perth! You didn’t find the Holy Grail did you?”
He had come so close to fainting from terror then a satisfying surge of righteous anger. “Oh please Lampie, the Holy Grail? What a load of poppycock – it wasn’t anything like the Holy Grail. Flip, flipper and flipping hell, to think you asked about the Holy Grail! I get that nonsense from my students every week!”
“So you did find something?”
Ahhh trapped – Lampie had such a satisfied smirk. He held up his hands in a token of surrender. “All right, all right, it will come out soon enough. You remember that box we saw on d’Alene’s chest?’
“Yes you shone the torch at it and it had gilt and paint on it.” Oh yes, a very good memory he thought bitterly.
“Well if I read Father Joachim correctly, and the fact that it was buried with the commander of the expedition, it held a document as important to Australian history as your own constitution.” He’d attracted her interest now.
Lampie’s eyes shone and she pulled out of her seat to lean closer. He felt her warm breath kiss his cheek. “Yeah what could that be Pete?’ Now a breathless whisper, Lampie was with him in the zone.
“A Papal bull, granting any conquered land to the Order of the Templars!”
Lampie froze for a moment, frowned then gave a dismissive wave. “Ahh Pete, don’t be silly. Who the hell’s going to be worried over that? It’s nothing. To think I dragged you through saltie infested water and a shit load of goons for a scrap of paper, naw! You’re pulling my leg. Well have it your way – you’ll tell me soon enough.” Lampie shook her head and settled back, while Peter looked at her in shock – nothing or little concern! He shook his head. It was going to be a feeding frenzy for the constitutional lawyers, assured to keep them in caviar, champagne and lobsters for decades. He wasn’t sure Australia was going to thank him for that, but it would keep the academics in raptures for years. He gave a half snort half chuckle. It was going to be very amusing to watch the coming debates. Well back to being a remittance man on the East coast and all the jaded delights of Skaze University.
By his sainted aunt, he could do with a holiday after his holiday and who knows maybe at Limberlost, he might finally get a chance to indulge in some sand, surf and bikinis!
Historical Note Endpiece
The discussion over the earliest discoverers of the Australian continent still rages quite fiercely between historian, theorists and adventurers. Almost from the first permanent Eurpoean settlement at Sydney Cove an awful lot of conjecture and was put to ink based on either misunderstood evidence or sheer fantasy now over two hundred years later it hasn’t changed. The first true human discoverers that we can find credible evidence for are those represented by the Bradshaw or Gwion gwion paintings, which puts their arrival on the continent to before 50,000 BCE. After that there was a bit of a lapse since Terra Australis was never an easy place to get to, or considering the coastline of the Northwest and North particularly alluring.
As for Europeans, there are rumours of Portuguese and Spanish wrecks from the coast line of every state, some may even be true. But considering how far our meager archaeological resources are already stretched, it is not so impossible to understand how we missed a Dutch wreck on our coast for decades. For D’Alene and his band of crusading freebooters we unfortunately have no proof at all they may have graced our shores. However for a brief span of years, the raids of crusading pirates plundering the shores of the Red Sea and edging out into the India Ocean was enough cause for the great Sultan Saladin to push for the destruction of the Crusading kingdom of Outremer. It is also certain that the Franks of Outremer knew of the Indian Ocean and the rich lands of East Africa, India and the Spice Islands. Their knowledge of geography, trade networks and potential sources of wealth was definitely more global than their western cousins.
Now we come to the crucial point of any voyage to Terra Australis; technological capacity. The medieval ship was a seaworthy vessel robust and capable of long distance travel, while their navigation skills were possibly rather primitive they served sufficiently for quite long voyages. So if the need was there they could have sailed from the Red Sea across to the Kimberley. The interesting question that most people fail to ask is why risk it, what ever could have drawn them to this barren coastline? Now that is a good question, and one that Peter and Lampie will be ‘exploring’ in their up coming adventures, the next one is set on the Queensland Sunshine Coast as Peter returns to sort out the conundrum of the Limberlost Terrace
Regards Greg House Terra Australis 2011
Sources.
http://www.museum.wa.gov.au/museums/maritime/#maritime
Wreck Inspection North Coast (WINC) 1978 Scot Sledge Dept. of Maritime Archaeology Western Australian Maritime Museum No 11
Cultures of Trade: Indian Ocean Exchanges Edited by Devleena Ghosh and Stephen Muecke Cambridge Scholars 2007
Crusader Archaeology: Material culture of the Latin East Adrian J Boas Routledge 1999
George Gray’s account of his expedition to the North Western region of Australia http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16027
Bradshaw or Gwion gwion images one of the best sources - http://agricola2000.tripod.com/Kimberlies.htm
Crocodile behaviour by ‘personal observation’ of author
Source of Ginger Faye Meadows death in Prince Regent River - Crocodile Attack in Australia Hugh Edwards 1988
Beer and recipes courtesy of Matsos Brewery via ‘personal’ consultation by author.
http://www.matsos.com.au/blog/
Bush tucker and bush trekking- personal experience
Terra Australis Templar (A Peter Wilks Archaeological Mystery) Page 51
