The Fighting Stingrays

by Simon Mitchell

  R.J.R. HURST. Lt.-Col. Staff Corps, Fortress Commander, Thursday Island.

  ‘What?’ yelled Masa, as Judy nearly fell off his shoulder in fright. ‘Everybody’s leaving?’

  ‘Only women and kids at first,’ said Charlie. ‘The grown-up men will probably follow in a few weeks. We’re going to my grandparents’ place in Brisbane.’

  ‘But . . .’ said Masa, looking from Charlie to Alf and back again. ‘What about me?’

  ‘It’s all right, I’ve got a plan,’ Charlie said. ‘We get lots of bandages and wrap them all the way around your head so that no one on the ship will recognise you. If anyone asks, tell them you’ve been horribly burned.’

  Masa looked doubtful. ‘News travels pretty fast on TI,’ he said. ‘People would wonder why they didn’t hear about a kid’s face getting burned off. And what happens when we get to Brisbane? I can’t go around in bandages forever. And where would I live?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Charlie. ‘You can’t stay at my grandparents’ – they don’t even have a shed we could hide you in. Alf, where are you and your dad going to live?’

  Alf had been hunched cross-legged on the floor of the shed ever since Charlie walked in. Now he stood up. ‘I’m staying right here,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Charlie. ‘You saw the paper – we have to go.’

  ‘I couldn’t give a toss,’ said Alf. ‘I’m not going back into one of those homes.’

  ‘You won’t have to go to any home,’ said Charlie. ‘Your dad’ll come with the rest of the men soon enough.’

  Alf kicked a pebble across the shed. ‘My old man already shot through,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Charlie.

  Alf shrugged. ‘Cleared out a few days ago. Not long after Rabaul. I came home and all of his stuff was gone. Guess he couldn’t afford for both of us to leave on the flying boat.’

  Charlie and Masa stared at him, open-mouthed. ‘Alf, that’s terrible!’ said Charlie. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

  Alf crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘I’m better off without him.’

  Alf was probably right about that. ‘But you can’t stay here and wait for the bombs to start falling,’ Charlie said. ‘Maybe you and Masa can live in a park or something in Brisbane? I could smuggle out food for you.’

  Alf shook his head. ‘They’d round me up and send me to the nearest boys’ home.’

  ‘And me to the camps,’ added Masa.

  ‘Then what are you going to do?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Alf. ‘We can’t sail a lugger, but I can handle a launch. So once everyone else has gone, we find a boat and head for the mainland. We can hide out in the bush till all this is over. Or even better, we’ll become commandos and give the Japanese a nasty surprise if they come through that way. What do you reckon, Masa?’

  Masa thought for a moment. ‘I reckon you’re off your rocker,’ Masa said. ‘But I can’t show my face anywhere now, and I don’t fancy waiting here for Captain Maggots to find me. I’m with you.’

  ‘But the mainland is twenty-five miles away!’ said Charlie.

  ‘So?’ said Alf. ‘You can see it from the top of Green Hill on a clear day.’

  ‘If you hit rough seas, you’ll never make it,’ Charlie said.

  ‘We don’t have a choice,’ Alf said, his jaw set. ‘But you do. Come with us.’

  ‘Yes, come with us, Charlie,’ said Masa, a pleading look in his eyes. ‘Please?’

  Charlie understood why Masa and Alf wanted to flee – even a risky escape was better than waiting around to be captured or killed. But unlike his friends, Charlie still had parents who he needed to obey. ‘I’ve got to go with my mum and dad,’ he said.

  ‘Bugger that,’ said Alf. ‘A good soldier never abandons his mates.’

  Charlie felt terrible about leaving Alf and Masa behind to fend for themselves, but he couldn’t just run away from his family to join some ridiculous trip to the mainland. There was something else as well – after seeing the state of the refugees from New Guinea, Charlie wasn’t sure he wanted to stick around this far north and wait for the Japanese. Not that he’d ever admit that to Alf, of course.

  A thickness formed in Charlie’s throat. ‘Strewth, fellas,’ he said. ‘I really am sorry.’

  Alf’s mouth tightened. ‘Well, that’s that then. Run away to your nice safe house in Brisbane and don’t worry about us.’

  Charlie frowned. ‘Don’t be like that.’

  Alf spat into the corner of the shed and stormed out without another word.

  Charlie raced to the door, but Alf had already leapfrogged the Bowen’s back fence and disappeared. Fury rose in Charlie’s chest – why did Alf have to be such a mongrel about it? It wasn’t his fault Alf’s dad had taken off.

  ‘It’s all right, Charlie. I understand,’ said Masa. He forced a smile. ‘I guess the Fighting Stingrays have had their last mission, huh?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Charlie, miserably, staring at the back fence where Alf had vanished. ‘I guess we have.’

  Masa jumped up to grab Charlie’s hand and shook it firmly. ‘Well, then – good luck, mate.’

  ‘You too,’ said Charlie, the lump in his throat getting bigger. He reached out and stroked Judy with one finger. ‘See you when this is all over, eh?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Masa, struggling to keep the smile on his face. ‘Course we will.’

  That evening, Charlie’s family was in crisis. ‘What do you mean we’re only allowed one suitcase?’ cried his mother.

  ‘How the hell should I know?’ snapped his father, stuffing a stack of documents into his case. ‘I’m more concerned about what this will mean for our finances.’

  Even though only women and children were supposed to be evacuated the following day, Charlie’s dad had somehow managed to wrangle a berth on the Ormiston. Charlie didn’t have much trouble working out why – you could get pretty much anything on TI as long as you had the money to pay for it. He wrapped a towel around the model lugger his parents had given him for Christmas and placed the wooden boat carefully in his suitcase next to his swimming goggles.

  Mrs Napier’s eyes widened. ‘What will it mean for our finances?’

  ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, we haven’t had many luggers going out since all my divers were locked up,’ said Charlie’s dad. ‘And now that we all have to leave, there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces next season, even if the Japs don’t blow the place to bits.’

  Charlie’s mum gasped. ‘You mean – we’ll be poor?’

  ‘Good God, no,’ said Charlie’s dad. ‘But we might have to cut back a bit on a few things.’

  Mrs Napier cringed. ‘We won’t have to let the maid go, will we? I’m not making any beds, Robert!’

  ‘No, Rosie will come to your mother’s with us. And Ueshiba’s insurance money will tide us over for a while yet.’

  Charlie’s ears pricked up. ‘What money, Father?’

  ‘Never mind, Charles,’ said his dad. ‘Have you finished your packing?’

  ‘Nearly,’ said Charlie. ‘But what does Mr U have to do with insurance money?’

  ‘I’d like to know too,’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘If this Mr Ueshiba means I don’t have to make the children’s beds then I want to hear about him, whoever he is.’

  Charlie’s dad sighed. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘As you know, pearl shelling is a dangerous business. I lose at least one or two divers every season. So for the past few years, I’ve been doing a little trick.’ He leaned forwards. ‘I take out life insurance on each of my divers. If they work hard and bring in plenty of shell, I make money. But if they drown or get the bends, I receive a substantial payout from the insurance company.’

  Charlie closed his eyes and breathed in – surely he must have misunderstood. ‘You mean that every time one of your divers dies, you make money?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said his dad. ‘And as old Ueshiba
was one of my best divers, he was insured for quite a bit. We’ve got a tidy sum waiting for us at the bank in Brisbane.’

  Charlie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘But what about Masa and the rest of Mr U’s family?’ he asked. ‘Do they get anything?’

  His dad frowned. ‘No, they’d need to take out their own insurance for that.’

  Charlie felt a little seed of rage inside him, which quickly sprouted and grew into a giant gum tree of anger. His father really did care more about making a profit than the people who risked their lives for him every day.

  Tucking the model lugger under one arm, Charlie sprinted out of the house and down to the beach. Blinded by tears of fury, he hurled the lugger against the rocks. Then he picked up the biggest stone he could find and brought it down on the beautiful boat again and again, snapping masts, tearing sails and smashing the hull into tiny pieces that were soon lost among the sand and broken shells.

  The Ormiston docked the morning after it was expected, which didn’t help the sense of panic spreading across the island. When the order was finally given to board the big steamship just before noon, the mood down at the dock was a mixture of relief and despair. Hundreds of women and children were bidding a tearful farewell to their fathers, husbands, brothers and sons.

  Women and children from the Catholic mission over on Hammond Island were joining the white, Chinese and Malay people on board, but the rest of the Islanders were being left behind. Even so, Bill had come down to the jetty to say goodbye to Charlie’s family. Mrs Napier looked right through Bill, like she didn’t know who he was, while Charlie’s father absentmindedly adjusted his white, cloth-covered pith helmet and mumbled, ‘Keep an eye on my luggers, won’t you, boy?’ At least Audrey was sad to be leaving Bill, wrapping her tiny arms around the big man’s neck to give him a hug.

  ‘What’s going to happen to you?’ Charlie asked.

  Bill shrugged. ‘Government’s saying we should go back to our islands and keep out of sight,’ he said. ‘Of course, plenty of fellas are keen to join the stoush as well. They’ve got a whole company of Islander boys like me, you know.’

  Charlie did know – Torres Strait Islanders in army uniform were a pretty common sight on TI these days. Still, it was a bit much that the government expected Islanders to fight for Australia when they didn’t even give them the choice to evacuate. He hoped Bill’s family would be okay – Badu, the island where they lived, didn’t have hundreds of soldiers to protect it like TI.

  ‘Good luck, Bill,’ said Charlie, shaking his hand.

  ‘You too, mate,’ said Bill, tipping his hat at Rosie before drifting away.

  Charlie wanted to say goodbye to Ern, but he was busy giving Doris from the Grand Hotel the longest farewell smooch in history. Quite a few troops had recently got engaged or married to local girls, and the jetty was starting to resemble one of the soppy love pictures they showed on Saturday nights. It was all a bit much, but then again – this could be the last time they ever saw each other.

  ‘All aboard!’ called a sailor with a pointy chin.

  ‘Time to go, Charlie,’ said Rosie, tears in her eyes.

  The passengers made their way up the gangplank, and Charlie wondered if any of them would ever come back to TI. Some of these people had never even left the island before, and now they were abandoning their entire lives – the houses they’d built, the gardens they’d tended, and all the precious things they’d collected over the years.

  Charlie thought about Alf and Masa hiding in the Bowens’ shed. He’d wanted to go back there this morning to patch things up with Alf, but the feeling of guilt gnawing in his stomach had held him back. Now he wished he’d had the guts – after all, he might never see his two best mates again, and that was almost too painful to think about.

  Charlie was so lost in his misery that he didn’t realise everyone else had already boarded the ship.

  ‘Charles, hurry up,’ barked his father from the top of the ramp.

  Charlie lugged his suitcase up the gangplank. He had just set foot on board when Maddox himself suddenly emerged from inside the ship. The captain sneered as he pushed past Charlie and onto the gangplank. ‘Why so glum, Charles?’ he said. ‘Are you sad to be leaving your Jap chum behind?’

  Charlie met his eyes. ‘For the last time, sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Captain Maddox leaned in. ‘You know exactly what I mean, Napier,’ he said quietly, a cruel smirk spreading across his face. ‘The Jap traitor you’ve got in the Bowens’ shed.’

  Charlie’s mouth dropped open.

  Captain Maddox chuckled softly. ‘Yes, I know everything,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve had a man watching you very closely over the last few days. And once this ship’s on its way I’ll be going straight up there to put a bullet in your friend’s belly. The only good Jap is a dead Jap, as I always say.’

  ‘No!’ cried Charlie. But his yell was drowned out by the blasting of the ship’s horn.

  ‘Gangway up!’ called the pointy-chinned sailor, turning away and busying himself with a knot of ropes.

  ‘Goodbye, Charles,’ said Captain Maddox. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then grabbed Charlie by the shirtfront and drove one knee hard into his ribs.

  Charlie fell to the deck, clutching his burning chest. Captain Maddox chuckled and strolled onto the jetty as the sailor closed the gate at the top of the gangplank.

  ‘Watch yourself, young fella,’ said the sailor, as Charlie struggled to his feet.

  ‘Please . . .’ Charlie gasped. ‘That man’s going to kill someone!’

  ‘It’s a war, mate,’ said the sailor, gloomily. ‘We’re all going to kill someone.’ He gave the signal to raise the gangplank and vanished into the crowd of passengers.

  Charlie slumped against a railing and sucked in big lungfuls of air. The ship’s engines roared as it pulled away from the dock, and around him the other passengers began singing a sad song that he dimly recognised from the concerts up at the town hall. The men of TI waved their handkerchiefs at the departing boat, and right at the end of the jetty stood Captain Maddox, his hands on his hips as he watched the Ormiston motor out into the harbour.

  Charlie had to warn Masa and Alf that Maddox was coming for them. But the Ormiston was already a good one hundred yards from the wharf and getting further away by the second. Far above him, the ship’s horn sounded a mournful farewell.

  ‘Will you get a bloody move on?’ snapped Charlie’s father, wrestling with two suitcases as he forced his way through the other passengers.

  Charlie looked after his father, then back to the rapidly retreating figure of Captain Maddox. It didn’t matter what his parents would say, there was no way he could leave Masa and Alf behind to face that maniac.

  Biggles wouldn’t leave them – Biggles would do whatever it took to save his mates.

  Charlie grabbed the handle of his suitcase, turned away from his dad and burrowed through the mass of teary-eyed, singing people. After treading on Mrs Yang’s toes and tripping over Mrs McGowan’s suitcase, Charlie escaped the throng and made his way to the deserted far side of the ship. He threw his leather case on the ground and flung it open, tossing shirts, trousers and underpants in all directions until he located his rubber swimming goggles. Pulling them over his head, he scrambled onto the ship’s railing.

  Swinging his legs over the rail, Charlie kicked off his shoes and socks and checked that he was still alone. He said a quick prayer, then took a deep breath and dropped into the sea.

  The ocean closed over Charlie like a warm blanket. The Ormiston’s propellers rumbled nearby as he sank, but apart from that, the underwater world was still and silent. Despite the danger his friends were in, and the fact he’d just abandoned his family, Charlie felt strangely calm. The pain in his ribs all but vanished as he sliced through the water with long, powerful strokes. He spotted a school of small, silvery fish a few feet in front of him and kicked towards them until they changed direc
tion and darted away, moving as one animal instead of hundreds.

  Charlie struck on until he couldn’t hear the ship any more. He was starting to feel the squeeze in his lungs, so he kicked upwards and broke through the surface, gulping in fresh air. The sun-bleached houses of the township were a couple of hundred yards away, but the Ormiston was well out into the channel and steaming from Thursday Island.

  No one had noticed his disappearance. At least, not yet.

  Sucking in a big lungful of air, Charlie dived down and swam towards the island. Soon, the dim outlines of rocks jutted out of the sand ahead of him – he was getting close. A startled octopus shot away as Charlie reached a stony outcrop and poked his head a few inches above the water. He was just offshore near the tiny hospital on the south-western tip of TI. The Ormiston was completely out of sight now, and apart from the odd shadow behind the windows of the hospital and a flock of white cockatoos in the almond trees, the area was deserted.

  There was no time to hang around in the shallows – crocs were sometimes spotted on this beach. Charlie waded ashore and, keeping low, bolted across the beach and over Victoria Parade to throw himself in the scrub behind a couple of palm trees.

  He waited face down for several minutes, but the only noise was a chorus of screeching cicadas. He got to his knees and was about to make a run for it when four uniformed figures appeared on the road. Charlie pressed himself flat against the ground, not daring to breathe – somebody must have spotted him and raised the alarm!

  But the soldiers trudged straight past, muttering about ‘going down to Japtown tonight to sort the place out’. As their voices trailed off towards the sports ground, Charlie scrambled to his feet, legs weak with relief, and made a dash up the hill. Green Hill Fort loomed overhead as he darted from tree to tree and fence to fence. But apart from Mr Rajapaksa snoring in a chair on his verandah, Charlie didn’t see another soul.

  He reached the Bowens’ place and inched along the side of the house. The backyard was empty. Charlie strode across the overgrown lawn and yanked open the shed door. He stepped inside, eyes straining in the darkness.