The Publicity Push

by Christopher Cummings

  They looked around. The jungle came right down to the water and there was no beach of any sort. Uncle Bill shook his head. “Too close. If there is a flood we could get washed away. We will camp a bit further up the slope.”

  Boots were pulled on and they moved on, following the faint trail of the old road. Cuts and blazes still indicated that other people had been that way at some time in the last few months. The track led up a gentle slope. Once they were fifty metres from the river Uncle Bill stopped and indicated a small clearing they had reached.

  “This will do for a campsite.”

  Allison looked around askance. “I don’t like this much.”

  “If we find somewhere better we can move later. It will do for now,” Uncle Bill replied.

  Kylie dumped her pack with a sigh of relief. “Do we set up camp?” she asked.

  Graham looked at his watch. “It’s only three O’clock. We could start looking.”

  Both Allison and Kylie groaned and Margaret looked unhappy. Uncle Bill saved them. “We will have a break and set up camp. We’ve got plenty of time. There’s no need to bust ourselves. This is my holiday don’t forget.”

  They spent the next hour resting and setting up camp. The girls had a nylon tent which they erected in a small area scraped clear of sticks. Uncle Bill had a small canvas fly which he strung up between the trees. All the boys had army ‘shelters individual’, plastic sheets which were also tied between trees with nylon cord. When the shelters were up they sat around on packs and groundsheets to have afternoon tea.

  Kylie took out the small hexamine stove Graham had given her to heat water. Margaret had a spirit stove and so did Allison. Uncle Bill went about things ‘bushman’ fashion, managing to light a fire using the damp sticks. He arranged a tripod of sticks to hold a billy of river water over the fire and brewed tea.

  Stephen looked up from his cooking. “Are we allowed to camp here?” he asked. “Isn’t this all ‘World Heritage’ National Park?”

  Peter answered that one. “According to the map the river is the boundary of the National Park. This side of the river is private property.”

  Margaret looked anxious. “What if the owner doesn’t want us here?” she asked.

  Stephen scoffed and looked around at the jungle. “Owner! Here?”

  Uncle Bill said: “In that case we will just move on, but as I have the right bits of paper to be allowed to prospect I think we should be alright.”

  The conversation turned to the jungle and what might lurk in it. Both Graham and Peter ridiculed the idea that there was anything more dangerous than a red-bellied black snake.

  “What about cassowaries?” Margaret asked.

  That caused a few nervous looks as they all had heard stories about the huge, flightless birds attacking people.

  Peter shook his head. “Haven’t seen any droppings,” he said.

  Graham took up the theme. “Anyway, if a cassowary appears you just lie down and make yourself look as small as possible.”

  “Why?” Allison asked.

  “If you look big the cassowary thinks you are challenging it for its territory,” Graham replied.

  “You don’t make thumping noises either,” Peter added.

  Stephen chortled. “You hear that Roger?” he said. “No farting.”

  “That will do!” Uncle Bill said, between the laughter.

  “What I want to see,” Peter said, “is a thylacine.”

  “A what?” Allison asked.

  “Thylacine. A Tasmanian Tiger,” Peter replied.

  “This isn’t Tasmania!” Stephen laughed. They all joined in with some good natured ribbing, before the conversation moved on to thylacines and the last reported sightings in the North Queensland jungle.

  After half an hour Graham said: “Never mind bloody extinct animals, what about this gold mine. We still have a couple of hours before dark. Let’s look around.”

  Kylie saw the looks that crossed the faces of Allison and Margaret. She knew Margaret would not go against Graham’s wishes but it was equally obvious she was worn out. “No. I want to have a rest and a swim,” she said.

  Graham made a face but the idea of a swim was popular and he was over-ruled. The group prepared for a swim. The girls crawled into their tent one after another to change while the males went behind trees. When all were ready they trooped back down to the river. Uncle Bill kept the boys under control and would not let them run on ahead, or go in till he was there.

  “No jumping or diving,” he said. “I don’t want to have to tell your mothers you will never walk again from spinal injuries.”

  The boys were first in, all clad in shorts or bathers. The girls were all shy and wore shirts over their bathers. Kylie knew it would be cold but it seemed much worse than it had been when they had crossed earlier. It took a real effort of willpower, helped by the boys splashing, to lower herself in.

  One result was that they did not stay in long but Kylie found it very invigorating and refreshing. Even Graham stopped grumbling about wasting time. A very pleasant twenty minutes was enjoyed.

  As she lay in the water Kylie looked up. Overhead was a clear blue sky but off to her right she could just make out the lower slopes of Bartle Frere. The massive bulk of the mountain dominated the valley and gave her a very closed-in feeling. Once again she experienced and intense feeling of isolation. The obvious ‘wilderness’ nature of the place made her feel very lonely and far from help. She shivered and wondered whether it had been wise to come there. For the first time she wished they were already on their way home.

  After a few more minutes they all climbed out and dried themselves. Kylie found she was shivering from the cold and her skin was covered in goose bumps. They made their way back up to their camp and changed back into clean, dry clothes. Graham again wanted to go off exploring but Margaret suggested washing the clothes they had worn that day and Kylie and Allison both supported her. Uncle Bill also thought this a good idea so they returned to the river.

  As they rinsed the sweat-soaked clothes Kylie wondered if it was the feeling of openness that they got at the river which had led her to wanting to return there. She certainly found the surrounding jungle and their campsite very claustrophobic.

  By the time the washing was done it was time to cook tea. Already the afternoon sun had gone off the tree tops. Being deep in a valley running North-South this was earlier than it would otherwise have been. The effect was to give them a long, gloomy twilight. This did nothing to lift Kylie’s spirits. She was annoyed with herself for having such reactions. ‘We are so close to the gold mine I should be bubbling with joy,’ she told herself. However she was unable to rid herself of a nagging sense of unease.

  The group busied themselves making their camp more comfortable, cooking and collecting firewood. The evening remained hot and humid. There was no breeze and Kylie found she was perspiring even after the sun had gone down. They then sat around the fire and talked for the next couple of hours. Even that wasn’t all that enjoyable. The available firewood was mostly damp and produced a very smoky fire. Even when the wood dried out properly it only burnt for a short while as it was all so rotten.

  After reminiscing about various expeditions and adventures the group took itself to bed early. Kylie was glad of that as she felt very tired and her muscles were now stiff and sore. It was a real relief to take off her boots and massage her toes. The three girls squeezed into the small tent side by side and changed into pyjamas. After brushing their hair they lay talking quietly for a while longer. Margaret lay so she could see out, her attention focused on Graham as he unrolled his sleeping bag and prepared for bed.

  “He’s going to sleep in his clothes,” Margaret whispered.

  “What did you want him to sleep in, the nuddy?” Allison asked.

  Margaret giggled and nodded. Kylie laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know what you see in the big oaf.”

  “He’s wonderful,” Margaret sighed.

  “You won’t think
so if he does something to you and gets you into trouble,” Allison added.

  The girls settled to whispering about boys and what they might really be like. Kylie was so tired that she took little part in this and soon drifted into a deep sleep, rousing from her slumbers a couple of times from bad dreams about snakes and centipedes.

  CHAPTER 22

  SEARCHING

  Thursday dawned clear and hot. Even before the sun touched the upper slopes of Bartle Frere they were perspiring. Kylie noted this as she walked with Margaret down to the river to fill her water bottles. She was feeling much better, although stiff and chafed from the previous days march.

  ‘At least we don’t have to carry our packs today,’ she told herself. ‘And we can get on with finding the gold mine.’

  Her spirits lifted even more at the sight of the sparkling, clear water tumbling and gurgling around the boulders in the river bed. It was a beautiful spot and it helped to lighten her sense of isolation.

  When breakfast was over they tidied the camp and prepared to explore.

  “Are we going to just leave our camp?” Margaret asked as she buckled on her belt.

  Graham shrugged. “Why not? Nobody is liable to come here,” he replied.

  Stephen looked up from doing up his pack. “There’s been someone here recently,” he pointed out.

  “Not in the last week or so,” Graham answered. “Anyway, you can stay and guard the camp if you like.”

  Peter shook his head. “Forget it. Anyone who comes here are only liable to be bushwalkers and they won’t steal anything,” he said. “Let’s get going. I want to find this gold mine.”

  In high spirits they set off. Kylie carried the letter in her hand in a plastic bag and Graham had the maps. They walked on up the gentle slope along the overgrown track.

  “We should come to the remains of the ‘Bright Smile’ mine after a few hundred metres,” Graham said.

  And they did. And it brought a bright smile to all their faces. There was no doubt it was an old mine as there were even mullock heaps and collapsed and rotting timbers over what had once obviously been a shaft. A litter of rusty iron objects, empty bottles and vegetation changes all attested to it being an old mine site.

  “The letter says to turn right at the ‘Bright Smile’,” Kylie said.

  “So we do the opposite and go left,” Peter added.

  “Can anyone see where the track goes now?” Stephen asked.

  They looked around and Uncle Bill pointed. “There is a fair sort of a track here.”

  Graham studied it and frowned. “It looks well used to the left.”

  A worrying thought crossed Kylie’s mind and she voiced it: “Maybe somebody else is here searching for the old mine too?”

  “It’s possible,” Uncle Bill agreed.

  They bent to examine the ends of a bush which had been cut. Peter shook his head. “Even if it was this was cut weeks or months ago.”

  “So whoever cut it has made it easier for us. Let’s keep going,” Stephen urged.

  The group set off along the track. It was easy walking and they quickly covered several hundred metres before coming to a fair sized creek which was gurgling merrily down towards the Mulgrave. They stopped on the bank to have a drink and wash perspiration off their faces.

  “Do we cross this?” Stephen asked.

  “The letter says: ‘cross Nugget Creek’,” Kylie replied.

  “It might, but if we turn left when it says right does that mean don’t cross when it says cross?” Stephen asked.

  That was a worry and they debated it for ten minutes. Finally Peter said: “Even if we don’t cross I can’t see where we should then go. There is no obvious track along this bank, but I can see where this old road we have been following goes on up the other bank.”

  That was true so they decided to continue on. The creek was easy to cross by stepping from stone to stone and they plunged back into the jungle. The track went up a low rise then across a large flat area. The jungle was, if anything, thicker than ever.

  After only a few hundred paces they came to another old mine. At least they thought it was. It wasn’t nearly as clear as the previous one; just a few low mounds of earth among the trees and a large tree stump. For a couple of minutes they looked around. Kylie gulped a big drink of water and wiped sweat from her forehead.

  “If this is Frank’s Claim then we turn right here,” she said.

  “Turn right! But there isn’t any track. The track continues on up the valley,” Stephen said.

  That was obviously true. The track they were on was quite clear. Graham and Peter began scouting around for signs of another track. Kylie joined them. Graham shook his head and looked worried. He pointed and said: “This might be a track, but it was never a road.”

  Peter nodded. “It looks like a track. I suppose your grandad never had a proper road to his camp.”

  “It would have only been a foot track,” Kylie agreed.

  “And there wouldn’t have been much more than a few bushes cut from his camp to the ‘Jeweller’s Shop’,” Graham added.

  “And that was over half a century ago,” Peter added gloomily.

  However it was all they had to go on. After some argument they set out along the faint trail. At least it led in the right direction, which was uphill along the spine of a gentle ridge. Now they moved even slower. Graham and Peter both took frequent compass bearings and noted paces and directions in their notebooks. The ‘track’ was very hard to follow and only an occasional old blaze mark on trees indicated they were possibly going the right way.

  “We are now looking for moss covered rocks,” Kylie reminded them.

  In this they were both disappointed and baffled. There were numerous small rocks protruding from the jungle floor and all had moss growing on them, but none was large enough to stand out as any sort of a landmark. The searchers became hot, sweaty and irritated.

  After a time they lost the ‘track’ and came to a standstill. There were no rocks in sight and nothing to indicate which way to go. Downhill on both sides they could hear the murmur of creeks. This led to an argument about where to go next.

  Kylie favoured the creek to the east of them, on their right, as the old letter said ‘take the left fork’. To her that meant take the right fork in the track. She wiped her brow and had a big drink, then insisted they go that way. As there was no track they had to push and cut through the jungle. This was not too difficult, except when they had to detour around several large ‘wait-a-whiles’.

  Fifteen minutes of this had them down at the creek. Graham looked up and down it, shaking his head. “This is the same creek we crossed lower down,” he said.

  “I know that,” Kylie snapped angrily. “So let’s look for moss covered rocks.”

  To do this they split up. Kylie, Margaret, Allison and Uncle Bill went downstream and the boys upstream. They had to scramble along the bank or step from rock to rock. The rocks were slippery and they all slipped several times. Kylie nearly sprained her ankle doing this. When Margaret fell heavily and bruised her bum Kylie began to worry that one of them might get hurt so badly they had to be carried out on a stretcher. It was a daunting prospect.

  Kylie began to regret having urged them to come on the expedition. As time went by she also began to doubt that they would find anything. They searched every clump of rocks and every side gully for hours, becoming sweaty and scratched in the process. Tempers began to fray and their enthusiasm flagged.

  Feeling quite dispirited the group sat around on boulders in the creek bed to eat lunch. Mosquitoes and leeches assisted in the process of lowering their spirits still further. Several arguments flared about whether they were interpreting the instructions correctly.

  Uncle Bill defused these by quietly pointing out they could try both methods. Lunch was mostly eaten in silence. Afterwards they went on upstream in a group. At each small tributary they stopped and a couple explored it for as far as it went. As before this was a slow and fr
ustrating job with much wrestling with vines and thick vegetation. Kylie began to hate the sight of the rainforest, and the claustrophobic feelings it engendered.

  They gave it up in disgust at 4pm. By then they were all tired and dirty. It had been a very hot day and the sweat had caused damp clothing to chafe tender flesh. Kylie had dirt and dead leaves down the back of her shirt, further irritating her. Allison was obviously chafed under her shirt and looking very pale and drawn.

  “That’s enough for the day,” Uncle Bill said. “Let’s get back to camp.”

  Now the careful compass bearings and paces noted by Graham and Peter came to their aid. They could have made their way down the creek but they were sick of slipping and sliding over the wet rocks by then. Instead they retraced their steps through the jungle. After a time Graham, who had an eye for such things, saw a tree he recognized, and then one of the old blazes. After that they were able to retrace their steps with no difficulty.

  4:45pm found them back at the old mine they had decided was ‘Frank’s Claim’. They stopped here for a drink and to remove leeches.

  Just as they turned left to start the walk back to their camp Stephen cried out and put his hand to his ear. “What was that noise?” he asked.

  They all stopped to listen. Faintly but distinctly Kylie heard a thud off to the west in the jungle. “I can hear it. What is it?” she asked.

  “Someone chopping wood with an axe I reckon,” Uncle Bill said.

  They all stared in the direction the faint sounds were coming from. Kylie felt twinges of alarm. Who could it be?

  Allison said: “I hope it isn’t those horrible men again.”

  Margaret let out a little cry. “Oh Allie! Don’t say that.”

  “I doubt it,” Kylie said, although she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Who else could it be?

  “They don’t know we are here,” Graham said.

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Stephen said. “Bert knew we were going to the Mulgrave. He could have told them.”

  “Oh don’t be horrible!” Allison cried. “Why would he?”