Davey Jones's Locker

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Davey Jones's Locker Page 32

by Christopher Cummings


  Feeling sick with guilt and with his heart now hammering in his mouth Andrew steeled himself and stood up. For a few more seconds he paused in cover. Up till now they could deny and bluff and talk their way out of any encounter but once he entered the building he would have broken the law- trespassing at the very least but probably (as he had heard on the TV News) ‘entering with intent to commit a crime’. It was a sickening thought and he almost did not go on with the plan. For a few seconds he again wondered whether he shouldn’t put on a mask or cover his face somehow. But that seemed even more criminal and dishonourable so he rejected the idea.

  Taking a big breath he nerved himself to walk quickly out of the trees and across the driveway. Here he paused with his back to the wall. After looking both ways along the driveway he edged sideways and peeked around the doorpost into the garage. As he did he strained his ears to try to detect if there was any one inside. The problem was that his heart was beating so hard that the pounding was causing a swashing sound which made it difficult to hear.

  ‘I will look bloody silly if Grandma Murchison is in the laundry doing the washing and I get seen,’ he thought. And thinking of her did not help as he genuinely liked the old lady and had no wish to cause her any harm. That thought almost made him give up. As yet he hadn’t entered the house. ‘I could still just walk away,’ he argued with his conscience.

  But he saw Carmen’s frowning face peeking from behind a tree so he nerved himself to act. She gestured to get moving. That helped. He told himself that there were other people involved as well. So in he went. It was like taking a dive from the high diving board into cold water. He gulped and almost scuttled inside.

  The interior lights were not on so it was quite gloomy but as he knew the way that was not a problem to begin with. Both cars were parked there. Keeping low he went between the Mercedes and the end wall at a crouch. At the front end of the car he paused again to listen. There was no sound from the laundry, the door to which was open. Reflected light came down the stairway from the patio but Andrew did not want to go that far into the room. Instead he angled right and made his way the five paces to the door of the small office.

  The office was in darkness but he had anticipated that and from his small haversack he took out a torch and clicked it on. A quick sweep with the beam showed that the room appeared to be as he had last seen it, the map cabinet still in place against the far wall. For a few seconds more he stood and strained his ears to listen. Hearing no sounds at all he moved forward to the map cabinet.

  The next problem was to find out which of the eight or ten sliding drawers was the one? Andrew tried to conjure up the image of Blake sliding the drawer open all those weeks ago. All he could decide from that was it was one of the bottom ones, but not the lowest. So he knelt and placed his torch on the floor, then gently used both hands to pull out the third drawer from the bottom. The drawer obviously was rarely used as the slides squeaked and the drawer was stiff and difficult to move. Fearing he had made too much noise Andrew stopped to listen, then inched the drawer out a few centimetres at a time.

  Then he discovered another problem. To look at the lower charts he had to hold the ones above up with one hand. To his annoyance he discovered that it was really a two handed job. After putting his torch on the floor three times and then struggling to hold the top chart up with one hand while he picked the torch up and scanned the next chart he stopped and wondered if he should not take the risk of turning on the light.

  He was also fairly sure after six charts that this drawer was not the one as all the ones he had so far seen were of the Gulf of Carpentaria. As there were no labels on the outside of the drawers he could not easily check, other than by sliding all the drawers out. He persisted for three more charts but when they showed Arnhem Land he stopped.

  “No good!” he muttered with annoyance. He was sweating now and feeling really anxious. Carefully he slid the drawer back in, not an easy task as it jammed several times and made screeching noises. That, more than anything, convinced him it was not the drawer Blake had pulled out. That one had slid out easily. After once more placing his torch on the floor Andrew gripped the two handles of the fourth drawer and tugged.

  It came out with no real noise and very little stiffness. A check of the top chart showed it was the northern tip of Cape York Peninsula and the east coast as far south as Cooktown.

  ‘This looks more like it,’ he thought.

  But once again he had the problem of having to put his torch down while he lifted the top chart to expose the next below. Just holding the large sheets of paper up was awkward. However he decided against turning on the light and persevered. The thought of taking the charts out one by one and then putting them back again later he rejected. ‘If someone comes I wouldn’t have time,’ he reasoned.

  And there it was- the chart he remembered!

  As he tried to shift the charts above it he trembled with emotion and had trouble focusing his eyes. Frustration and fear were then almost his undoing. To get a good look he needed to roll the five charts above it out of the way but the drawer wasn’t far enough out. Grunting with annoyance he lowered them onto his torch as a ‘place mark’ and then pulled the drawer further out. To his dismay it rolled sharply out and came to a jarring stop, half hanging down.

  For a few seconds Andrew crouched, heart beating rapidly and ears straining. However there was no sound from above so he carefully rolled the charts aside and began the next stage of the plan. Reaching into his haversack he took out a camera, set the flash and stood up. It was a cheap camera with a fixed focal length of a metre so he hoped he was more than a metre from the paper as he clicked the shutter.

  The sound of the shutter quite alarmed him, as did the brilliant flash of light. He quickly took another photo, then put the camera back into his haversack. Taking from the bag his own chart and a pencil he crouched to study the pencil line. No doubt about it- the line ran from the Great Barrier Reef to the northern tip of Cape Upstart. Written on it in smudgy pencil was 264° MAG. The calculations were on the side- converting from Latitude and Longitude to a magnetic compass bearing. -7° was the variation used.

  Andrew now knelt to stare at the reef end of the line. There were several large reefs in the area: Old Reef, Stanley Reef and several smaller ones with names like Faith Reef, Hope Reef and Charity Reef but the line ended at a small one with the pencilled name Echo Reef beside it. When Andrew and Carmen had discussed what to do once he was inside the office their first idea had been to find the chart, grab it and bolt. Then they had decided that was not a good plan as it would betray the fact that someone had been there and taken it, thereby putting Murchison on his guard. It would also be theft. Instead the camera and a copy were opted for.

  So now Andrew crouched low and tried to match his own modern chart with the old one. He bit his lip with concentration as he slowly slid his pencil across the paper from reef to reef. Suddenly he froze. ‘Was that a voice?’ he wondered.

  Within seconds he knew it was. Quite clearly he heard Old Mr Murchison’s voice say, “I’ll just look.”

  ‘Look at what?’ Andrew wondered. In a fluster of near panic he quickly pocketed his pencil and then tried to close the drawer. To his dismay he found that he had dislodged the top charts so that they would not fit. Quickly he placed the torch and his own chart on the floor. With fingers all shaking from fear he hurried to push the charts back into place, actually making a hash of it in his haste. As he did he thought he heard footsteps on the stairway down from the patio but wasn’t sure. Resisting the urge to run he lifted the front of the drawer and got the thing back on its runners, then tried to slide it in.

  With the perversity of such things it jammed when nearly closed. To his dismay Andrew saw the corner of a chart stuck in the runner. But as he bent to free it he heard Muriel’s voice call clearly down the stairwell. “Wait a moment Grandpa,” she said.

  ‘Old Mr Murchison is coming downstairs!’ Andrew thought in alarm.

&n
bsp; CHAPTER 29

  OUT IN THE OPEN

  Snatching up his satchel, the torch and his own chart Andrew hurried to the door of the office and looked around the corner. Seeing no-one he stepped out and started walking across towards the garage door.

  Suddenly the lights came on, half blinding him. From near the bottom of the stairs Old Mr Murchison called out, “Hey you! Who are you? What... What the? What are you doing here?”

  Andrew stopped in shock, but then resumed walking even as he heard footsteps clattering down the steps. Old Mr Murchison cried out again, louder and more angry this time. “You! Young Collins! How dare you! What are you doing sneaking into my house?”

  Again Andrew made no answer. By then he had reached the front of the Mercedes. From behind him he heard Muriel ask, “Grandpa, what’s wrong?”

  Old Mr Murchison called out again, shouting angrily this time. “Stop thief! Put down that chart!”

  Only then did Andrew remember that he had his own folded chart in his hand. He glanced at it but kept on walking, fear and shame making him hurry. From behind him Muriel also called out, “Andrew! What are you doing here? What have you done?”

  Old Mr Murchison answered that. “He’s stolen one of my charts. Stop him!”

  By then Andrew was at the open garage door. To his shame he had to suppress an urge to run. Instead he was stung by the accusation and turned to face Muriel, who was now hurrying past her grandfather. “It isn’t yours!” Andrew shouted, waving the chart in the air. “It’s mine. I bought it from Commander Hazard.”

  Muriel came running over, halting when only a metre away. “Give it to me!” she snapped.

  “It’s mine I tell you!” Andrew retorted.

  “Grandpa called you a thief. What have you got in that bag?” she demanded, reaching out towards it.

  “Nothing of his,” Andrew replied, holding the chart away from her. She stepped closer and again tried to reach it. Then, before Andrew realized her intention, her foot kicked up into his groin. Searing pain shot through him and he doubled up in agony, clutching at himself. As he did her hand snatched the chart from his grasp. All Andrew could do was gasp and crumple up. The shock was as bad as the pain. ‘She kicked me!’ his stunned mind told him.

  Into his blurred vision as he sank to his knees came Carmen. Muriel saw her coming and tried to turn and run but she was too late. Carmen grappled with her. “Give that back!” she demanded. “It doesn’t belong to you. It is Andrew’s.”

  “Let me go, you sneaky bitch!” Muriel screamed.

  Andrew now lay on the driveway, sucking in shuddering gasps of breath as waves of pain swept through him. Part of his mind noted the two girls clawing and wrestling with each other. The other part was still trying to comprehend that Muriel had actually kicked him. It was such a blow to his pride that he had difficulty accepting it.

  Old Mr Murchison arrived at the garage door but he just stood waving his hands ineffectually and looking aghast at the two girls. Andrew rolled further away and struggled to his knees. The pain was still so intense that he remained doubled up. He could not believe how much it hurt, or how instantly it had rendered him helpless. Tears ran unheeded down his face. Now Carmen’s size and strength showed. She grabbed Muriel’s little finger and jerked it hard, causing her to drop the chart.

  “Grab it Andrew!” she cried.

  Andrew gasped in pain but managed to hobble over bent double. He picked up the chart just before Old Mr Murchison. As he straightened up and backed away Andrew looked at close range into the old man’s eyes and was appalled. A look of pure hatred glared at him.

  Old Mr Murchison’s clawing hand reached for him and the old man shouted, “Give it to me boy! Give it to me or else!”

  “No!” Andrew shouted angrily. He was recovering from the agony and anger and outrage were replacing the humiliation and feelings of rejection.

  “I’ll get the police onto you!” Old Mr Murchison shouted, his face a mask of fury.

  “Good!” Andrew retorted. “That is exactly what we want. Then you can explain why you lied about what happened to the Deeral!”

  “Why! How dare you! You... you..” Old Mr Murchison spluttered.

  Andrew retreated another step, Carmen joining him, while still fending off a furious Muriel. Andrew stood his ground now, chest heaving and burning with embarrassment but still queasy from the waves of pain. Still holding himself hunched forward he shouted angrily, “You can tell us the truth about what happened to our grandfather!”

  At that Old Mr Murchison appeared to shrink. His face contorted with strong emotion but Andrew could not tell if it was anger or fear. Muriel now drew back and stood next to him, obviously puzzled. “Grandpa, what is going on?” she asked.

  “The chart,” Old Mr Murchison cried, pointing to it. “They mustn’t get the chart.” His face then twisted with what was obviously pain and he bent forward and appeared to crumple. Muriel cried out in alarm and rushed to hold him up.

  Carmen now stepped in front of Andrew and pushed him. “Go and get in the boat Andrew,” she ordered. That irritated Andrew and embarrassed him but he realized he was in no condition to either run or fight. The queasiness was making his head spin and he thought he was going to vomit. Reluctantly he turned and staggered off down the driveway.

  Looking back over his shoulder Andrew now saw Grandma Murchison appear. As Carmen backed away Muriel glared at them and shook her fist. “You’ll regret this!” she shouted.

  That shook Andrew too. All his hopes of reconciliation were now dashed for sure. Feeling battered and dazed he tottered on down the driveway past the boatshed and onto the beach. Carmen came along behind him, disdaining to hurry.

  As she caught up with Andrew she said, “Well, it is all out in the open now. That old bugger will have some explaining to do I reckon.”

  Hearing his sister swear like that told Andrew just how angry and determined Carmen now was. It saddened him even more to think of the hurt and anxiety that Grandma Murchison and Muriel must be experiencing. ‘Unless they know the truth,’ he reasoned. Then he shook his head. He did not believe they did. It was all very distressing. To add to his embarrassment he still shuddered from time to time and had to suppress the urge to hold his testicles in front of his sister. Shame at the tears did not help either.

  Once they were on the beach and out of sight of the house Carmen called on him to stop. “Sit down for a minute,” she said.

  With a sigh of relief Andrew lowered himself onto a convenient rock. Very mixed emotions still boiled in him, along with residual waves of pain. Partly he was angry at himself for getting caught. “That didn’t go very well,” he muttered.

  “No. You’d better not plan a career as a burglar,” Carmen replied, giving a wry but sympathetic smile. Then she asked, “Did you find anything?”

  Andrew nodded. “I found a chart. I think it was the right one. I’ve marked this one with the location shown on it.”

  He held the chart up for Carmen to see. While she looked at it he had another thought and quickly extracted his pencil and wrote on the chart the magnetic compass bearing and magnetic variation. “Before I forget,” he said. Then he shuddered as another wave of nauseating pain swept through him. “I got photos too,” he added.

  Carmen looked at him anxiously. “Are you alright Andrew? Do you want me to get the cat and sail her around to here?”

  “I’ll be alright,” Andrew replied. The thought of being left there alone, possibly to face the wrath of Muriel or her family, did not appeal. In answer he pushed himself to his feet and told Carmen to put the map in his haversack. Swinging that onto his back he set off walking stiffly along the beach. “I guess we don’t need to rub out our footprints now,” he said ruefully.

  At that Carmen gave a soft laugh. “They won’t follow us,” she said.

  “I wasn’t thinking of that. I’m worried about them calling the police,” Andrew replied.

  “I don’t think they will,” Carmen answered. “Not
if Old Murchison has anything to hide. It could lead to some very awkward questions.”

  But worry over the police stayed as a concern all the way back, and over the next few hours. Andrew half expected to find them waiting at the Yacht Club when they sailed the cat in. However it was all a normal Sunday afternoon. Next Andrew fretted that the police would be waiting at their home, but again the fear was wasted emotion. He and Carmen arrived home to find their father having an afternoon nap and their mother quietly reading.

  “How’s the boat?” she asked.

  “Fine,” Andrew replied. He had trouble standing upright still and from time to time experienced sharp pains. ‘I hope Muriel hasn’t bust something down there,’ he thought anxiously.

  Carmen at once got him to go to his room so they could lay the chart on the study desk. She went and got a protractor and a notebook and quickly calculated the magnetic back bearing and converted it to a grid bearing. Andrew watched in silent admiration. He half understood but it was a skill that was really only taught on the Leading Seamans Course or Coxswains Course.

  Next Carmen placed the centre of the protractor on the tip of Cape Upstart. A few seconds work by her dexterous fingers produced a pencil line that ran out to the Great Barrier Reef. Andrew studied it and nodded. It went within a millimetre of the dot his pencil point had made.

  “That’s the place,” he said. “Echo Reef.”

  Carmen studied the chart and gave a soft whistle. “Holy Mackerel! That’s a long way from where Old Murchison said they were.” She quickly measured the approximate distance from the reefs east of Hayman Island to Echo Reef. “Nearly a hundred nautical miles. Two hundred kilometres! No wonder nobody ever found anything. They were all looking in the wrong place.”

  Andrew was also busy calculating. He placed a ruler on the map and measured the distance out to Echo Reef from Bowen. “About eighty kilometres,” he said, then added, “Bowen is the closest port.”

 

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