Captain Maddox dropped Masa on the floor in disgust. He turned around and grabbed a handful of Alf’s hair, wrenching his head upwards. ‘How did that little grub escape?’ he demanded.
Alf met Maddox’s gaze without flinching. ‘Grub?’ he said. ‘I didn’t see any grub. But I can see a big fat maggot.’
Maddox stepped back and slapped Alf across the face. Then he pulled out his revolver. ‘You’ve got three seconds to tell me where Charles is,’ he snarled, cocking the weapon and pointing it at Alf.
Moving awkwardly in the heavy diving suit, Charlie stepped slowly away from the wall.
‘One . . .’ said Captain Maddox, his back to Charlie and Masa.
Charlie took another lumbering step. Masa opened his eyes and pulled the slingshot out of his pocket.
‘Two . . .’ Captain Maddox’s voice was dripping with hate. Behind him, Masa loaded the slingshot with a lead sinker and pulled back the stretchy rubber band.
‘Thr–’ began Captain Maddox.
‘Now!’ yelled Charlie.
The ball of lead shot through the air and pinged Captain Maddox in the back of the head. He spun around towards Masa, bellowing with rage and pain, and Alf immediately swung his right foot upwards into Captain Maddox’s khaki-clad groin.
The captain made a spluttering sound and dropped to his knees, the gun clattering out of his hand as his legs clamped together like a pair of pliers. He looked around, teeth clenched in agony, just as Charlie launched himself towards Maddox head-first. There was a flash of angry recognition in Maddox’s eyes a split second before the copper diving helmet clanged against his skull and the two of them collapsed into a heap on the tiled floor.
Charlie wriggled out of the metal helmet and pushed himself upright. Captain Maddox sprawled motionless on the tiles, eyes closed. ‘Cripes,’ Charlie said. ‘We didn’t kill him, did we?’
Masa knelt down and listened to the captain’s breathing. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘But I reckon he’ll have an awful headache when he wakes up.’
‘Couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke,’ Alf said. ‘Now, how about getting these handcuffs off?’
As Charlie squirmed free from the diving suit, Masa dug the tiny key out of Captain Maddox’s shirt pocket and unlocked the metal bracelets shackling Alf to the post.
Alf stood up and shook his arms. ‘That’s better,’ he said. He bent down and picked up the captain’s revolver. ‘Enfield No.2,’ he said. ‘Very nice.’ He carefully put the gun in one side of his belt, shoved their trusty slingshot into the other and stuffed a handful of lead sinkers into his pocket.
Captain Maddox groaned and his eyelids flickered.
‘Quick,’ said Charlie. ‘Let’s get ourselves a boat.’
‘Here we go again,’ muttered Masa, lifting Judy out of the vase and slipping her safely under his shirt.
The Fighting Stingrays burst from the butcher’s shop and onto Douglas Street. There was no chance of staying out of sight at this time of day, so they bolted straight down the middle of the road, attracting more than a few stares from the troops going about their business.
‘Kids!’ said a navy man. ‘Where the bloody hell did they come from?’
They reached the corner of the block before the shrill voice of Captain Maddox rang out along the street behind them. ‘Stop those boys!’ he cried shakily. ‘Twenty pounds to whoever brings them to me!’
Charlie pelted down the road towards the seafront. Alf was a couple of strides in front of him, and Masa was panting just behind. Peeking back, Charlie saw half-a-dozen uniformed men swinging around the corner in fast pursuit. He dodged a pothole, skirted around an empty slit trench, and nearly collided with an army truck as he crossed Victoria Parade towards the jetty. The vehicle skidded to a stop only inches from Charlie, and he caught a glimpse of Sergeant Livingston in the driver’s seat, his mouth hanging open.
A dinghy was tied to the leg of the jetty closest to shore, and the Fighting Stingrays staggered through the shallows and climbed aboard. As Charlie untied the rope, Alf faced their pursuers and pulled Maddox’s revolver out of his belt. Pointing the gun high into the air, he closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger.
The gun cracked loudly. But for all his talk about guns and ammo, Alf had never fired anything stronger than an air rifle, so the revolver’s recoil sent him reeling backwards. He tripped over Masa and the pistol slipped out of his hand and into the water. Alf’s warning shot worked, though – the group of soldiers screeched to a stop in the sand.
As the mooring rope dropped away, Charlie saw that Ern had clambered out of Sergeant Livingston’s truck and was gaping at the Fighting Stingrays in amazement. Charlie pick ed up the oars just as Captain Maddox arrived on the scene, blood streaming down one side of his face. ‘Shoot them!’ Maddox screamed.
None of the soldiers moved. Charlie pulled the oars and the dinghy slipped away from the jetty. Maddox pushed through his men until he was standing right next to Sergeant Livingston. ‘What are you waiting for, Sergeant?’ he roared. ‘Shoot them!’
Sergeant Livingston stared at Captain Maddox. ‘Sir,’ he said. ‘They’re only kids.’
‘Bah, I’ll do it myself,’ Maddox bellowed. He reached for Sergeant Livingston’s rifle, but the sergeant puffed out his chest and pulled the gun away from him.
‘Insubordinate,’ Captain Maddox howled. ‘I’ll have you court-martialled for this.’
Alf took over the rowing, and the little boat picked up pace as it pulled out into the harbour. ‘Where to?’ Alf asked, as Captain Maddox hopped up and down with frustration on the shore.
‘Anywhere,’ said Masa. ‘Anywhere but here.’
As Alf heaved the oars, three soldiers piled into a motor launch at the end of the jetty and started the engine.
‘Oh no,’ Charlie said. ‘They’re coming after us.’
But then a man raced down from the township and yelled something at the troops on the beach. They scattered immediately, jumping into trenches and scrambling to pull on their steel helmets. The men in the launch cut the engine and dashed back along the jetty, holding their slouch hats against their heads.
Only Ern stayed on the beach, gesturing wildly for the boys to come back. As they rowed further away, Ern cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at them. The wind stole most of the words, but it sounded like Ern was yelling about a parade.
‘They’re having a parade?’ said Alf. ‘Crikey, it’ll take a lot more than that to get me back to TI while Maddox is there.’
Ern kept shouting and waving madly, but the Fighting Stingrays couldn’t make out anything he was saying. They rowed out into the channel between TI and Horn Island until Ern looked like a toy soldier standing alone on the shore. Finally, he turned and sprinted back towards the trenches.
‘We’re safe!’ yelled Charlie.
‘What’s that noise?’ asked Masa.
It started as a low roar above them and was quickly joined by a faint whistle. Charlie glanced at the sky over Horn Island, expecting to see a plane coming in to land, but the only thing over the aerodrome were thick grey clouds.
Seconds later, the whistle became a deafening wail. Then there was a dull crump and a mass of smoke and flame erupted from the direction of the aerodrome. Charlie barely had time to blink before two more explosions went up and sent dirt, rocks and bits of debris spraying everywhere.
‘Cripes,’ said Charlie, his ears ringing. ‘There isn’t any parade – it’s an air raid!’
Thoomp, thoomp, thoomp. Three more bombs exploded on Horn Island in quick succession, and thick columns of black smoke billowed up from the aerodrome. Charlie scanned the sky, but the low clouds hid any trace of the bombers that were dropping this destructive cargo. Another lot of loud booms rang out, and something in the vicinity of the airstrip burst into flames. Judy poked her head out of Masa’s shirt, startled, then immediately vanished again.
‘Here come our planes!’ cried Masa, pointing to half-a-dozen fighters that had appeared fr
om the cloud.
‘That’s not us,’ said Alf, grimly. ‘They’re Mitsubishi Zeros.’
The Japanese fighters came in low over Horn Island and peppered the air base with machine gun fire. The rat-tat-tat of machine guns mingled with the drone of aeroplane engines, and the last plane in the formation chimed in with a few deep booms of its cannon.
‘Where are our fighters?’ called Alf over the din. The Zeros turned in a wide circle, revealing the blood-red suns painted on their wings. They disappeared into the clouds and for a few moments everything was silent.
Then another hail of bombs fell on Horn Island. A chill ran through Charlie as trees went up in flames and explosions echoed off the islands around him. How many more bombers lurked in the air above them, and how many waves of fighters were on their way? He could be watching the beginning of the end of Australia.
‘Keep rowing, Alf,’ Charlie said.
But Alf wasn’t listening. He whooped with glee as another bunch of Zeros emerged from the clouds, closely followed by a formation of dark green planes with machine guns blazing. ‘They’re Kitty Hawks!’ exclaimed Alf. ‘American machines.’
The Americans flew in behind the Zeros as the Japanese planes strafed the aerodrome. The attacking planes split up and went in different directions, dodging, weaving and performing spectacular rolling manoeuvres to avoid the Kitty Hawks on their tails.
The Fighting Stingrays ducked as the aerial dogfight went on in the sky above them. Planes darted in and out of the clouds, the rattle of machine guns and roar of the engines creating a deafening racket. A pair of Japanese planes found their way in behind some of the Kitty Hawks, and Charlie gasped as the flash of bullets hit several American planes. A Kitty Hawk went into a dive, pulling out just in time to make an emergency landing on the Horn airstrip, smoke seeping from its fuselage. Another one came in a minute later, wobbling horribly as it tried to touch down.
A gap opened in the clouds, revealing more fighting high above them. A group of fighters split off and screamed back down towards sea level, a Kitty Hawk pursuing three Japanese planes as they weaved away to the north.
The American plane’s guns were rattling non-stop, and Alf cheered as a stream of small explosions on a Zero’s left wing ended with the wing coming clean off. The Japanese plane plummeted straight down, its engine shrieking until it crashed into Hammond Island with a distant thud.
The American performed a steep ascent and swooped so close behind a Japanese machine that the planes were almost touching. The Japanese pilot stopped firing and tried to pull away, but the Kitty Hawk stayed on his tail at point-blank range.
‘Why doesn’t he shoot?’ said Masa, peeking over the edge of the dinghy
‘His guns must have conked out,’ said Alf.
The Kitty Hawk pilot guided his plane alongside the enemy. Then, incredibly, he rammed the Zero with his wing and a huge fireball spewed from the Japanese machine. Pieces of flaming debris sailed through the air, and the Zero went into a sharp spiral before plunging into the sea, leaving an oily, burning slick behind it.
‘What an ace!’ cried Alf.
None of the planes had noticed the little wooden dinghy drifting in the channel below them. But as the fighters soared skyward to continue the dogfight, one Zero stayed down, sweeping around the back of Horn Island and zooming towards the Fighting Stingray’s boat.
Masa frowned. ‘Um . . . is he?’
The Japanese plane swept so low that its wingtips almost touched the water. Its engine wailed as it streaked towards the boys, the swirling propeller bearing down on them at a breathtaking speed.
‘He is!’ said Charlie.
They flattened themselves on the bottom of the boat as the plane’s machine guns started up. The noise was terrifying at close range – a blistering mechanical drum roll that pounded the eardrums and sent a shudder of fear down Charlie’s spine. The sea erupted in a line of small geysers as the bullets hit the water beside them. Charlie shut his eyes as the plane passed only a few feet above him, sucking the air from his lungs and rocking the dinghy violently.
Charlie opened his eyes as the Zero rocketed away and the drone of its engine subsided. Alf was pressed against the wooden floor of the boat, hands over his head, and Masa was curled up in a ball. ‘Everybody all right?’ asked Charlie.
Alf sat up. ‘I think so,’ he said, feeling his chest for bullet holes.
‘He’s coming back,’ said Masa. Sure enough, the Zero had swung around and was heading towards them again.
‘Everybody down!’ yelled Charlie. He ducked into the boat and Masa shrank down in front of him. But Alf didn’t move.
‘Alf, get down!’ Charlie said.
Alf shook his head wearily. ‘I’m sick of hiding,’ he said. Pulling the little wooden slingshot out of his belt, he stood up to face the enemy plane. As the Zero buzzed closer, he raised the slingshot in front of him and put a lead sinker into the leather pouch.
‘Don’t be stupid, Alf!’ shouted Charlie over the howl of the engine. ‘He’ll kill you!’
But Alf stood firm, one foot on the bow of the dinghy. Eyes locked on the incoming plane, he stretched the slingshot’s rubber strap all the way back. ‘Come on, you coward,’ he muttered.
The Zero’s screeching engine reached a crescendo. With a harsh cry, Alf released the rubber strap and sent the tiny lead ball zipping straight towards the Japanese war machine.
It did nothing, of course. Jets of flame blazed from behind the plane’s propeller, and two neat lines of geysers leapt out of the water in front of the dinghy. Charlie screamed as the bullets whizzed by, only missing them by inches this time.
Disgusted, Alf threw the slingshot at the Zero as it roared past them. But the plane banked slowly and began gliding in for another run at the boat. Charlie’s mouth went dry – there wasn’t much chance the pilot would miss them a third time.
As the grey nose-cone came towards them like a steam train, Alf looked wearily at Charlie and Masa.
‘Bugger it,’ he said. Then he turned, dropped his shorts and bent over, pointing his bum straight at the incoming fighter.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ said Charlie.
‘He’s giving them the full moon,’ hooted Masa. He jumped up beside Alf, pulled down his pants and aimed his own backside at the Zero.
‘You’re both mad!’ yelled Charlie.
Alf gave an ear-splitting whoop and slapped his bum cheeks at the Japanese plane. ‘Oi!’ he shouted.
‘See if you can hit this!’
Charlie groaned – his friends had obviously lost their minds. But what else was there to do? ‘To hell with it,’ he muttered.
Masa and Alf cheered as Charlie pushed between them and pulled his shorts down to his knees. The Fighting Stingrays’ three bums waggled proudly side by side as the Zero’s engine increased in pitch.
Soon the plane was so close that when Charlie glanced backwards he could actually see the Japanese pilot’s face. He was only a young fellow, with a leather cap on his head and goggles over his eyes. And he was laughing himself silly as he sped towards the Fighting Stingrays’ wall of backsides.
The pilot must have been so busy laughing that he forgot to squeeze the trigger, because there were no machine guns this time, only a blast of hot air as the plane buzzed so low above the Fighting Stingrays that they were sent sprawling into the boat.
Then there was a roar as two Kitty Hawks hurtled out of the clouds towards the Japanese plane. Their machine guns opened up and the Zero pilot threw his plane around wildly, tearing upwards in an attempt to elude the pursuing Americans.
Now the dogfight was directly above the dinghy, the Japanese plane swerving and ducking to dodge the Kitty Hawks’ fire. But the Americans weren’t letting it out of their gunsights. Seconds later, a series of flashes hit the Zero’s fuselage and an explosion burst from the side of the plane. Bits of metal sprayed in all directions as a plume of smoke poured from the Japanese engine.
‘Hooray!’
yelled Alf. He leapt up, pants still round his ankles, and raised both arms in triumph.
The Japanese plane struggled upwards and disappeared into the cover of clouds. As the pair of Kitty Hawks gave chase, Charlie heard a faint whistling from above. He looked up just in time to see a large piece of metal plummeting towards him.
There was a bright white flash and then everything went black.
The water was dark, but perfectly still and blissfully warm. Charlie floated effortlessly in the endless ocean, peering at the collection of incredible creatures around him – a brilliant yellow-and-blue striped eel with a moustache, a school of bright red puffer fish wearing wedding dresses, and a cloud of phosphorescent plankton that swirled and dipped into a dazzling array of patterns before forming a glowing green portrait of King George.
Charlie opened his eyes to find an angel hovering above him. She had kind eyes and dimples, and her light brown hair was tucked into a white headdress.
I’m dead, Charlie thought. I’ve died and gone to heaven. But if he was in heaven, why did his head hurt so much?
‘Charlie!’ said the angel. ‘You’re awake.’
‘Are you an angel?’ asked Charlie.
The angel covered her mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to hide her laughter. ‘Not quite,’ she said, brushing down her grey uniform. ‘I’m a nurse. My name is Sister Clark.’
‘This isn’t heaven?’ said Charlie, his tongue spongy and dry.
Sister Clark smiled. ‘It’s the Torres Strait Hospital, on Thursday Island,’ she said. ‘You’ve been unconscious for quite a few days, but you’re still very much alive.’
Charlie reached up to find his throbbing head completely wrapped in bandages. His brain seemed to be full of treacle, the words and thoughts sticking in it and taking a long time to come out.
‘TI is still here?’ he mumbled. ‘But . . . the bombs.’
‘They’ll have to do more than that to wipe us out,’ said Sister Clark, plumping up the pillows behind Charlie’s head. ‘But I daresay they’ll be back before long.’
Masa appeared dressed in a baggy white gown. ‘Charlie!’ he said.
The Fighting Stingrays Page 15
