I thought of poor Mad Martha at the end of the jetty, out of her mind with grief. ‘Dafty, you mum thinks you’re dead. It’s killing her. I’ve seen her.’
Dafty smiled. ‘I leave her Christmas presents. In the night when everyone’s asleep. On the doorstep. So she knows I’m not. The teacher. I left him a present too. A poo on his doorstep.’ Dafty laughed at his wicked little joke.
‘A poo on his doorstep? Wish I’d seen that.’ I chuckled.
‘We’ll tell her,’ announced Banjo. ‘We’ll tell your mum and it can be a secret between us all. Then we’ll look after you. We’ll get you some clothes and proper food and somewhere to sleep, dry and warm. And no-one need ever find out. Ever.’ Banjo had that determined look in his eyes he got when something important was happening.
‘You wait here,’ he told Dafty, ‘and Jack and I will bring you some things tonight after it’s dark. It won’t be too long.’
‘You have to watch out for the army men,’ replied Dafty. ‘They look all over, all the time, wanting to shoot me.’
Patricia Goes Missing
‘Jack, for God’s sake. Where have you been?’
‘What?’ I asked, surprised. Mum never usually cared where I was.
She was standing in the doorway with Bette clutched to her shoulder. ‘Your sister. She’s gone missing. I can’t find her anywhere. I don’t know where she is.’ Mum was starting to panic. ‘The Jap might’ve taken her. He could’ve been watching the house and knows your father isn’t here.’ Her voice rose. ‘Mrs Purvis has gone for the constable.’
‘Don’t worry, Mum, she can’t be far. And it can’t be the Jap. He doesn’t ... It wasn’t ever...’ I stopped. We’d decided that no-one but Dafty’s mum was to find out that the lost Jap was really Dafty.
The front gate creaked open. ‘Mrs Jones.’ Constable Campbell and Mrs Purvis stood at the front fence with the six American sailors we’d seen watching the cricket match. They towered above Mrs Purvis, even though she was a big woman. George T Washington nodded at me and gave me a friendly smile.
‘Mrs Jones, these men have offered to help with the search,’ said Constable Campbell. ‘They were at the jetty loading supplies for the camp. It’s just until we can get a full, official search underway. You mustn’t worry. We’ll find Patricia.’
Mum pulled Bette close. ‘But the snakes—it’s coming up to snake season, and she’s so small. She doesn’t even know to leave them alone.’
‘Ma’am, like the constable said, you mustn’t worry,’ said George T Washington. ‘Kids run away all the time.’ Like his friends, his black face shone with sweat and dark smudges stained their uniforms. They’d obviously been working hard all day. He smiled very slightly, but kindly. ‘My little ones are always running away. Trouble is, they keep coming home again.’
Mum smiled hesitantly, but she seemed to appreciate his little joke.
I couldn’t imagine the sailors having children and homes and things like that. They looked far too tough to be bothered with homely stuff.
‘Jack, where do you think she might’ve gone?’ asked Constable Campbell.
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘We have a fort by Garden Lake. She likes the lake, and the ducks.’
‘Right, Jack. You and me, to the lake. George and...’ He paused. ‘Melvin?’ The sailor with ‘M Brown’ sewn on his shirt nodded. ‘Up towards the army jetty. The rest of you down along the coast. That way. Spread out.’ He pointed north.
Then I remembered Dafty was at Shangri-la, directly above the army jetty. If they started looking near the jetty they were sure to find him. How was I going to warn him? But we had to find Patricia before it grew dark. We didn’t have much time. But being with the constable, there was no way I’d be able to warn Dafty.
Constable Campbell and I started along the sandy road towards the lake. I had to run to keep up with his long strides. Pretty soon I was puffing and my ribs started aching again. But I couldn’t stop. I dared not.
‘Now, where’s this fort of yours, Jack, me boy?’
I couldn’t answer. I just pointed at the circle of rocks and logs we had heaped up at the water’s edge on the other side. ‘But she’s not there,’ I said quickly, hoping he’d believe me. ‘She’s not there.’
Two figures walked towards us from the settlement. Mr Palmer, limping heavily, and Mrs Owen from the bakery drew closer.
‘No sign of her, Don?’ asked Mr Palmer as they reached us. He leaned heavily on his walking stick. He was obviously in terrible pain but trying hard to disguise it. ‘Mrs Carter has been going from house to house calling for volunteers. We came as soon as we could.’
‘But your leg—’ started Constable Campbell.
‘We can’t worry about that now. We have to find the little girl. It’ll soon be dark and there’s no way...’ He obviously remembered Patricia was my sister and stopped. ‘Are you all right, Jack? You look terrible.’
You don’t look too good yourself, I thought. ‘I ... we ... have ... to keep ... on.’ My voice came in short bursts as I gulped in air.
Mrs Owen studied the lake. What did she expect to see, Patricia floating face down in the middle? As Banjo and I knew, the lake was only as deep as our chests at the deepest and the water was as clear as a bell. There was no way Patricia could be in the lake.
‘Clive,’ said the constable, ‘do you think you could get back and set up the schoolhouse, and help coordinate the volunteers until Colonel Hurley mobilises the garrison and takes over.’
Mr Palmer nodded and took a deep breath that seemed to catch. He swayed slightly but turned and limped away, his stick tapping on rocks as he left. The left knee of his trousers was darkly stained and glistening wet. He was bleeding. As he walked away without complaining, I couldn’t help think how wrong I’d been about him all this time.
‘Mrs Owens, I think Jack could use some help getting home. I didn’t realise he was still so ill,’ continued the constable.
‘Right. I’ll be getting him home then, will I?’ Mrs Owens put her arms round my shoulders and lifted me under the armpit. I nearly passed out with the sudden, excruciating pain in my ribs.
‘All right, boyo?’ she said, leading me back while halfcarrying me towards the settlement.
My mouth opened but no words came out. I needed to sit still and stop breathing. I’d be fine if I could just sit perfectly still for half an hour.
The front gate creaked again and Mum rushed to open the kitchen door. Mrs Isaacs stood in the doorway. She looked embarrassed and stared at the ground before speaking very quietly.
‘Hello, Mrs Jones. Your little girl. You have to ask my Sam to help. He can. He will find her. He can sense these things. But you have to ask. He could offer to your husband but he’s away. He can’t offer to you.’
Mum looked puzzled. ‘But why? Why not?’
‘It’s their way. The men. Our men. Too proud. Too proud to offer to a woman.’ She looked down at the ground again and smiled slightly. ‘Silly, stupid pride. But you have to ask him. You must. He’s at home now. He just came home from work. Go now.’ Mrs Isaacs bent her head once more and whispered, almost to herself. ‘I know. I know. We had two daughters. Once.’
Mum turned and looked at me, silently telling me to look after Bette. She reached forward and gave Mrs Isaacs a quick and unexpected hug and then, like a greased cat, took off up the street towards the Isaacs’ house without her hat or coat.
Mrs Purvis came to her front door to see what was going on. She saw Mrs Isaacs still standing on our porch and her eyes narrowed. She seemed as comfortable with Mrs Isaacs as she did with George T Washington and his friends.
‘Can I help you?’ she called to Mrs Isaacs, with all the warmth of an iceberg.
Mum Thanks Mr Isaacs
It was growing dark and they still hadn’t found Patricia.
Luckily a full moon lit the streets with a pale glow and the men could keep searching into the night. From our street, the light of their hurricane lamps bobbed
in the distance and I could hear them calling out Patricia’s name, over and over.
Our kitchen was crowded with women brewing large teakettles on the stove and making sandwiches. Every fifteen minutes or so, one of the workmen or a soldier would call in with a progress report on the search, each one a little more anxious than the last. Mum sat in the corner rocking Bette’s pram and trying to calm her. The noise and voices had upset her.
I was outside, sitting on the fence, when I heard the roar of the old ferry engine starting up down at the jetty.
‘It’s Red Eric,’ one of the women announced. ‘He’s off to the mainland to collect Rob.’
‘Couldn’t someone on the mainland bring him over?’ said another.
‘There’s no-one on the mainland who’ll chance the crossing at night,’ the first voice replied. ‘It’s a treacherous journey if you can’t see your way.’
That was true enough. The island was surrounded with wrecks of ferries and ships that had run aground on all the reefs and shoals that surrounded the island. Their rusting ribs stuck out of the shallows like brown skeletons, reminding anyone foolish enough to try, not to ignore the perils of the sea. Only Red Eric had enough guts, with plenty of guts to spare. Like Little Eric, he was a full-blown hero as far as I was concerned.
The room fell silent as everyone listened to the sound of the ferry warm up and then pull away from the jetty and disappear into the night. I wondered if Mum might now forgive Red Eric for introducing Dad to Thor’s Hammer.
Captain Anstey arrived soon after, carrying his black doctor’s bag, to see how Mum was. He offered to give her something to calm her nerves if she needed it.
‘Captain Anstey,’ Mum said very quietly and calmly, ‘that’s very considerate of you and I appreciate your kind offer, but I need to have my wits about me for when Patricia comes home. And what about when Rob arrives? He won’t want to find me dosed up like some sort of mental patient, will he?’
Captain Anstey smiled kindly. ‘No, I don’t imagine he will, Mrs Jones.’
You can give it to me, whatever it is, I thought. Dose me up. My ribs only stopped hurting if I stopped breathing. I couldn’t decide if I needed to throw up or pass out. My heart pounded in my ears and my mouth felt as dry as a cockie’s cage. What if they never found Patricia? I tried to stop myself thinking like that.
Thud. I felt a small stone hit my back. Thud. The second one hurt.
‘Jack!’ Banjo’s voice sounded from across the road. ‘Jack!’ I could barely hear him. His head poked out from behind the neighbour’s wall. Dafty was with him as well, ducked down behind a bush. I slid off the wall and walked over, looking over my shoulder. Everyone inside was too busy talking to notice me.
‘What’s going on? Who are all these people?’ Banjo asked.
‘It’s Patricia. She’s missing.’
‘Oh, Jack, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘We thought they were looking for Dafty.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I mean the Jap. There are soldiers everywhere, all over the island. We just missed them. They nearly found us at Shangri-la. We had to leg it out of there in a real hurry.’
‘You have to get the Riginy man, Jack,’ said Dafty in his slow, deliberate way. ‘He’ll know where to find Patricia. He can find anyone. He nearly found me even when I was a hiding in the bestest spot.’
As Dafty said that, a long shadow in the moonlight passed down the road. A figure was approaching from the direction of the bakery. I squinted, trying to make out who it was. Dafty was right, it was the Riginy man.
‘Stone the crows,’ I whispered in sheer relief.
Mr Isaacs held Patricia in his arms, her head buried in against his broad shoulder. But was she hurt or even still alive? Why wasn’t she walking? My stomach started to lurch. As he stepped closer, I could hear Mr Isaacs humming a soft song. I couldn’t understand the words. It was a strange sort of lullaby. Patricia must be all right. He wouldn’t be singing to her if she wasn’t.
Banjo smiled at me and nodded. ‘We’ll catch you tomorrow.’ He and Dafty turned and slipped into the shadows, just like The Shadow does before he pounces on Evildoers.
I hurried to open the gate for Mr Isaacs. As he stepped through, all the noise in the kitchen suddenly fell silent as the women crowded to the door.
Mum rushed forward, her arms outstretched. ‘Thank God. Thank God.’
‘She’s fine,’ said Mr Isaacs quietly. He looked around at the staring faces. Although pleased that Patricia had been found, everyone seemed awkward, uncertain at his presence. He bent slightly to hand my little sister over to Mum. Patricia was obviously tired out and almost asleep. She hardly stirred.
‘She just lost her way,’ Mr Isaacs said. ‘I found her down by the water.’
‘How, Mr Isaacs?’ I asked. ‘How did you know where to look?’
He smiled at me, ignoring everyone in the kitchen doorway. ‘How do you know where the end of your nose is, Jack, when you can’t see it?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘It’s just there. I know it is.’
Mr Isaacs gave a slight shrug and smiled because I’d obviously answered my own question. But then he leant over and whispered in my ear, ‘I was on my way over here and I bumped into her. She was nearly home.’ He put his finger across his lips. ‘Don’t tell anyone, though, Jack. Not good for the reputation. We blackfellas are supposed to have special powers.’
‘Mr Isaacs.’ Mum didn’t know how to thank him. Tears of relief had filled her eyes. She moved forward, rose up onto her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Several women gasped. I wasn’t sure if they gasped because Mum had kissed another man, or if it was because she kissed an Aboriginal bloke. Mum heard them as well. I could almost see her hackles rising.
‘Mr Isaacs,’ she said loudly, ‘take a seat here by the fire. You must be cold and exhausted. Can I get you a sherry? Something to warm you up a little? Or there might be a Swan left in the icebox.’
Mrs Purvis’s mouth tightened in such disapproval you’d have thought Mum had offered to dance the cancan.
Mr Isaacs shuffled his feet, embarrassed for Mum. ‘No thank you, Mrs Jones. I’d better get home. We’ve got a big job at the aerodrome tomorrow.’ He smiled at her. ‘We all have to work extra-hard with Mr Jones away on the mainland.’
‘No, please stay for a little while. At least have a cup of tea with us. Mrs Purvis will make it, won’t you, Mavis?’ said Mum with a wicked smile.
That was the moment when I realised why I was always getting into trouble. It was inherited directly from my mother.
Dad Comes Home
Just before dawn I went down to the jetty to wait for Dad. I heard the chug-chug of the engine long before the Valkyrie appeared out of the eerie gloom of the early morning mist. Christian jumped off the deck and tied up the hawsers.
‘Hey, youngster,’ he called to me. ‘Thought you might be here. I brought you a special delivery from the mainland.’
What was he talking about? I was waiting for my dad. No-one ever sent me special delivery. No-one ever sent me anything. Gran posted me some pyjamas on my last birthday, but that didn’t count. I looked to see what Christian was talking about.
‘I reckon you’ve grown four inches.’ Dad stepped off the short gangplank, reached over and rubbed my hair.
I stood there like an idiot, not knowing what to say. ‘Mr Isaacs found Patricia,’ I finally blurted out.
‘I heard over the radio before we left,’ he said. ‘Your mother must’ve been beside herself with worry.’
I nodded. ‘She sure was.’
‘Sam Isaacs, eh?’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘Well, if anyone was going to find her.’
‘Mum’s pretty upset. What with you being away and Bette teething and me...’ I said.
He held up a large box tied up with a ribbon. ‘Leave your mother to me,’ he replied with a grin. Christian helped him with his old suitcase and two large parcels. Dad hung onto several others including a long narrow one. ‘You better take
charge of this one,’ he said, handing it to me.
I pulled the wrapping straight off, letting it blow into the sea. I couldn’t believe it. Dad had bought me a real American air rifle—a BB gun that fired ball bearings and had a silver, engraved face of Buffalo Bill fixed to the butt. This time I really didn’t know what to say. I’d never had such a good present, ever, in my entire life. I stood there speechless. It was nearly worth losing Patricia to get a BB gun.
‘You should be able to see off a few Nips with that, eh?’ he laughed.
I couldn’t wait to show Banjo. A BB gun was better than any number of gings, better than anything in the world. We headed towards home with Dad striding out and me sort of half-running along beside him.
‘How’s Banjo?’ he asked. ‘Still a chance he’ll be off to Perth Mod after Christmas?’
I’d forgotten about that. I’d have to look after Dafty all by myself. But with the way my ribs hurt, I’d be lucky to live that long. I’d be lucky to live beyond the next day or so.
‘He has to pass the exam first, in a few weeks,’ I replied, sort of hoping Banjo would fail miserably and have to stay at our island school.
Little Eric Returns
Next day we all heard the horn of the ferry whooping from way offshore. I wandered down to the jetty to see what was going on.
‘It’s Little Eric due back on his first leave from navy training school, isn’t it?’ explained Mrs Evans. She knew everything that happened on the island.
I noticed Mrs Jansen waiting. She was dressed in her best Sunday dress and looked as proud as punch. Other people gathered, and pretty soon the jetty was crowded with everyone who didn’t have enough to keep them busy during the day. I also noticed Bess and her mum standing slightly apart from the group. They seemed anxious and on edge.
‘It’s like a welcome for the flaming king of flaming England, not Little Eric flaming Jansen,’ said Mr Carter.
‘Trainee Admiral flaming Jansen, if you don’t mind, Mr Carter,’ laughed Mrs Jansen. She immediately put her hand over her mouth and blushed slightly at her rude word. Several women laughed at her reaction, though Mrs Purvis tutted disapprovingly.
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