They needed all of that and used it all. Willy had never worked so hard in all his life. For the first two days his muscles complained at the unaccustomed exercise but by Day 3 he was starting to feel fit and could almost see his muscles developing. Willy was also pleased to see that Mr Jemmerling and Mr Hobbs both pitched in and did their fair share of the work at the ‘Beaufighter’. This included some of the hardest and dirtiest jobs.
But Mr Jemmerling did not do any of the domestic chores around the camp. Mr Hobbs did all of this for him, including washing so that he had clean white clothes every day and every evening.
He was able to do this because water was not a problem. Every morning just after sunrise the Pterodactyl landed and unloaded fresh supplies. The ‘Catalina’ also brought Mr Jemmerling his mail and re-charged batteries for his satellite telephone and laptop computer. As Mr Jemmerling said, “I might be having the best holiday in years but I still have businesses to run.”
It all left Willy feeling quite ambivalent about Mr Jemmerling. He could not decide if he believed him and trusted him or not. What he had to admit was that Mr Jemmerling was usually a very nice person- albeit with a streak of ruthlessness. ‘I suppose you have to be fairly tough to be a real success in business,’ Willy mused.
Indeed Mr Jemmerling seemed to thrive in the harsh conditions. He certainly became fitter and did a lot of smiling and laughing. Even when covered in the mud of the salt marsh he could still joke. “It will wash off,” he said. “And besides, it is the mud that saved the plane for you.”
Mr Beck had to concede that. Apparently the pilot, fearing it might be soft mud, had opted to do a wheels-up ‘belly landing’. That had undoubtedly saved his life as the ‘Beaufighter’ had slid to a standstill the right way up on the edge of the dunes. “If he’d landed wheels down the aircraft would have flipped and probably killed the lot of them,” Mr Beck said.
Willy now learned the interesting fact that metal aircraft propellers that hit land had the tips bent backwards. “If they hit water while still spinning then they dig in and the pressure forces the tips forward,” Mr Beck explained.
This fact was pointed out on the afternoon of Day 2 when they had shovelled most of the sand off and were able to drag the old tarpaulins aside. These were rotten but had definitely served to help preserve the wreck. Much of the paint was still visible and even the RAAF roundels and serial numbers were clear. Most of the Perspex was still intact but to Willy’s great disappointment all the guns and electronics had been removed.
“Taken away by RAAF work parties during the war,” Norman said.
The ‘Beaufighter’ was one of Willy’s favourite aircraft types and he had seen those famous newsreels of Damien Parer’s showing them attacking Japanese ships during the Battle of the Bismarck Sea in 1942. He had read that the Japanese called them ‘The whispering death’ because they arrived with so little warning and had such devastating firepower.
‘Four 20mm cannon, eight .303 machineguns, plus rockets and bombs. They would have been deadly,’ Willy thought, imagining himself piloting one in to the attack.
But time and salt and the weather had done their worst. The whole underside was corroded and the aluminium was so brittle in places that it crumbled or snapped. The huge radial engines were just balls of rust. All rubber had perished and the few bits remaining had turned solid. Every stage in the recovery operation was photographed and recorded.
Once the wreck had been dug clear of the sand it had to be moved to the beach. This was a much harder and more delicate task. It was now that Mr Jemmerling was able to help the most. He had a fund of technical knowledge and expertise and was able to make seemingly impossible tasks easy.
First a vehicle path had to be smoothed through the dunes. Then the smaller pieces were lifted onto the 4 Wheelers using a gyn; a tripod of extendable steel pipes from which a block and tackle was suspended. Thus the propellers, motors and the torn-off port wing were all moved with relative ease- and a lot of anxiety and sweat.
The tail section including the tail fin and tailplanes had almost broken off during the crash. This part of the wreck was cut off and moved to the beach. Then the really hard tasks began: moving the main section of the fuselage and the starboard wing. As the bolts securing it were all rusted or corroded there was no option but to cut the wing off, very sweaty work with hacksaws. The wing was then levered onto a tarpaulin and hauled by the 4 Wheelers along aluminium skids out to the beach.
Next they tackled the fuselage. Everything from inside that could be removed was. Then, by doing a lot of digging, aluminium planks were slid under the rotting lower section. These were secured to give rigidity. Air bags were then pumped up to lift the fuselage higher and then rollers used in conjunction with aluminium skids to slide the wreckage out through the dunes.
They finished the task just on sunset on the fourth day. As Willy stood there, wiping sand and sweat off and feeling very pleased with their efforts Mr Beck said, “I hope all this stuff is safe here on the beach.”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” Willy’s father asked. “Surely the tide won’t come that high?”
“No, but I just hear on the radio that there is a new low pressure system forming. This one is out in the Coral Sea and I would hate it to whip up big waves. Then the Wewak wouldn’t be able to beach and we would have to shift all this stuff back into the dunes.”
“Where is the low?” Mr Jemmerling asked.
“Just heard it on the radio,” Mr Beck said. “It is out near Willis Island, about seven hundred kilometres away.”
Norman shook his head. “That’s a long way off. It shouldn’t bother us.”
“I hope not,” Mr Beck replied.
Willy did too. He worried about all their hard work being washed away but was relieved that the sea stayed calm and the wind dropped. Even though it meant he sweated a lot more and the mosquitoes attacked in squadrons, he was content. He felt even easier when Mr Jemmerling called Capt Kirk on the satellite phone and confirmed that Wewak was on schedule.
“They are leaving Portland Roads tonight and will be ashore here just after daylight. That will give us about two hours to load before high tide,” Mr Jemmerling said.
Willy did not sleep very well that night. The heat and humidity made it too uncomfortable for real rest and he was anxious. Twice he was on guard duty. From 20:00 he shared with Mr Beck and then Mr Hobbs. Then from 02:00 to 04:00 he shared with his father and Mr Jemmerling. Both times he was struck by how still it was. There was not even a light breeze and the sea was so calm it barely lapped the shore. The plop of fish jumping seemed to be very loud and made him jump. Each time that happened he shone the torch around looking for any sign of a crocodile stalking them.
At 04:00 they woke the camp and drinks were prepared. Then packing began. By the time the sun rose over the calm sea Willy was already a lather of sweat and all the tents and tarpaulins had been struck and rolled up. The group then sat down to a breakfast cooked by Mr Hobbs. While they ate they listened to the radio. That was worrying. The low pressure had moved closer by about a hundred kilometres during the night and its pressure had dropped to 993 hp.
“Do you think it will form into a cyclone?” Willy asked.
Mr Beck shrugged. “It might, but it is a long way south of here and even if it does we are right to load.”
That made Willy feel easier. He felt even better when the Wewak hove in sight at 05:00. Just seeing the old veteran in the distance made him feel affectionate towards her. It also brought home to him how glad he was that the relative isolation was now over. Picking up his camping gear and bag be made his way along the beach to where the pieces of the ‘Beaufighter’ lay just above the high tide line. By the time he arrived there Wewak had nosed ashore and dropped her bow ramp.
Graham, Andrew and Carmen came hurrying ashore to look at the wreck. “You got it then!” Graham cried happily.
“We did,” Willy replied, glowing with perspiration and satisfaction.
Capt Kirk joined them and said, “Let’s get this salvage aboard quickly. I don’t like the sound of that low out in the Coral Sea.”
“Do you think it might turn into a cyclone Captain,:” Mr Jemmerling asked.
“I don’t like the feel of it,” Capt Kirk replied. “Look, you can see the start of a swell beginning.”
Willy hadn’t noticed that but now he saw that a regular series of gentle waves was rolling in, making the sea look like it was made of red corrugated iron as the sunrise shone across it. He said, “Do you think it might come here sir?”
Capt Kirk frowned and said, “You never know with cyclones. They rarely come in on this part of the coast but I don’t trust the weather in January. Now, let’s get working.”
The next two hours were very hard, sweaty work. Luckily the LCT had brought a forklift along and aided by it and rollers, blocks and tackles and a crew of seamen who knew their business, all the big parts were hauled aboard and made secure under tarpaulins within two hours. Another two hours had all the smaller pieces of wreckage aboard, plus the camp equipment and personal kit.
While they were doing this Pterodactyl arrived. Willy took time out to watch the flying boat land, thrilling to see how its keel cut the calm water and then bumped across the tiny swell waves. The crew came ashore in the rubber boat to assist.
By 08:30 the work was all done and the ramp ready to raise. Mr Jemmerling then came and shook everyone’s hand and wished them well. “I am happy,” he told them. “Now we both have a plane. And it was a lot of fun. Now I had better be off.”
“Where are you going now sir?” Willy asked.
“To check on some of my businesses. I need to see how the mineral exploration team are going, and I believe there is an ‘Airacobra’ somewhere up the coast a bit that might be worth a look at.”
“Good luck then sir, and thanks for everything,” Willy said. He still felt unsure whether Mr Jemmerling had told the truth but he liked the man so much that the thought made him feel guilty.
“Thank you young Willy. And remember, when you are a pilot, I can help you learn to fly the old ‘warbirds’ if you are interested.”
“Oh yes sir! Thank you!” Willy cried.
Then Mr Jemmerling and his team made their way down the ramp to the beach. As soon as they stepped off Capt Kirk signalled and the mate began raising the ramp and Andrew and Carmen were sent to start winching at the stern anchor to heave the LCT off the sand.
“And not a minute too bloody soon!” Capt Kirk muttered as the Wewak lifted off on the rising tide and then slid astern. When the bow struck the bottom several times with shuddering bumps Willy understood what he meant. Already the swell waves were getting bigger. But there was still no wind. That made him sweat even more and he found it a relief to leave the sweltering tank deck and retreat into the saloon out of the blistering sun.
As Wewak turned to face south Willy went out to watch Mr Jemmerling and his crew return to the ‘Catalina’. As they climbed aboard he waved and saw arms wave back. Then the LCT’s engines went to full ahead and the screws began churning water from under her counter. Within minutes the flying boat was left far behind. Willy watched it take off, punching across the swell to lift off half a kilometre out to sea.
The Pterodactyl then did a low, slow pass and everyone went out on deck to wave. Arms waved back. ‘What a great plane!’ Willy thought, wishing he was on it instead of the slow moving landing craft. Then the flying boat banked and headed off south eastwards. A few minutes later it had dwindled and vanished into the distance.
Willy watched until he could see it no longer. Then he looked down at the tarpaulin covered pieces of the ‘Beaufighter’. “We did it!” he told himself happily. Then he turned and went inside for a well-earned shower to wash off the sweat and sand.
Refreshed and dressed in clean clothes Willy felt much better, at least for a few minutes. Then the oppressive heat caused him to break into a sweat again, even when sitting in the saloon. Morning tea followed, during which the full story of the recovery were retailed to Graham, Andrew and Carmen.
After that there was little for Willy to do. The Wewak ploughed south across a glassy sea at about 12 knots. The air remained still and the sea had a flat, oily appearance with the horizon obscured by shimmering heat haze. Capt Kirk kept glancing at the sky and the barometer and muttering. The sky was clear, with no clouds and an odd glare which gave Willy a headache. He lay down and tried to sleep but it was too hot and he just perspired.
“Oh, why isn’t this old tub air conditioned?” he grumbled.
He was not pleased to learn that they were not sailing direct back to Cairns. “We have to pull into a place called Port Stewart to pick up a bulldozer that needs repairs,” Graham explained. Willy found Port Stewart on the chart and then learned that they would be there overnight while they waited for the tide.
Port Stewart, when they reached it at about 3:00pm, was something of a shock to Willy. He had imagined a bay and wharves and a town. Instead all he could see was the mouth of a mangrove creek on a flat, sandy coast. The water offshore was full of shoals and sandbars and it took some tricky navigation to get the LCT through them and up the creek. The creek was about a hundred metres wide and very shallow. Then Willy got another shock. There was no wharf and no town. All that indicated it was a settlement was a barren, mudflat with a single sad looking coconut palm and the crumbling remains of some old cattle yards. A sloping gravel ramp comprised the entire port facilities.
Parked on the plain amid shimmering waves of heat was a large yellow painted bulldozer and a 4WD. Two white miners sat in this and watched. The Wewak was conned in to the hard at about 4:00pm and the bow ramp lowered. The bulldozer was then coaxed on board with some difficulty as its engine kept failing and it had some defect in its gears. The machine was then secured by a sweat drenched crew using chains and turnbuckles.
By then it was after 5:00pm and they had missed the tide. All they could do was sit and watch as the water drained away. “ALL of it!” Willy cried in astonishment as the Wewak was left sitting high and dry on the sandy bed of the creek. Apart from a few puddles there was no water at all.
The two miners departed in their vehicle and the only movement ashore was the arrival of a battered utility with half a dozen Aborigines of various ages and both sexes. They appeared to ignore the LCT and walked out on to the sandy bed of the creek. Here they set about collecting worms and shrimps for fishing bait. Then they set up camp some way from the shore, back near some distant trees. At no time did they come near the LCT.
“This is the port for the town of Coen,” Capt Kirk explained.
“Can’t be much of a town,” Willy grumbled, still sweating as the sun set.
“It isn’t,” he was assured.
Night brought very little relief. It remained stifling, with no wind. The discomfort was increased by swarms of sand flies and mosquitoes. Insect repellent seemed to be quite inadequate in keeping these off. Of further concern was the weather report after the 7:00 pm news. This said that the ‘low’ in the Coral Sea had deepened to 985 hp and had moved closer to the coast. It was now about 500 km east of Cape Tribulation. It was still a long way off and well south but Capt Kirk looked anxious.
“I am not just worried about us,” he explained. “I’ve got the Malita heading north from Townsville after being slipped for hull cleaning and the Bonthorpe is coming down past Lockhart River towing the barge Oura. The Oura is loaded to the eyeballs with empty forty four gallon drums- five thousand of them- and they are only making about seven knots as a tow.”
Andrew asked the question Willy wanted to know about. “Sir, if this low becomes a cyclone is it likely to come this way?”
Capt Kirk shook his head. “No. Very few cyclones come in north of Cooktown. Nine out of ten strike the coast between Cairns and the Whitsunday Islands. But it will mean we might have to hang around up here for a few days waiting for one to blow itself out.”
With that depress
ing thought Willy took himself to bed, lying under a mosquito net in a lather of sweat. It was an uncomfortable night and he slept badly. It was almost a relief to be woken at 05:00 next morning.
Daylight brought no improvement in the weather. It remained hot and still with no clouds in the sky. Nor was there any water in the inlet yet. The tide had turned and was on the make but only a few trickles were visible out between the headlands. An early breakfast was mostly eaten in silence. The main topic of conversation was the ‘low’. This had moved very little during the night and was still about 500 km away. But it had deepened, the central pressure dropping to 977 hp. The announcer informed them that it had begun to take on some formation and there was a possibility it might develop into a cyclone.
Capt Kirk spent some time on the radio and learned that the Bonthorpe and her tow had passed by during the night. They were now crossing Bathurst Bay, heading south.
For the next hour Willy sat in the shade and tried to read a book while watching the tide come in. To his surprise it really flowed in, the brown water swirling across the sand much faster than he imagined was possible. The wide expanses of sand vanished very quickly. This was to the evident pleasure of the Aborigines who appeared on the bank armed with fishing lines, cast nets and fish spears. By 07:00 the LCT was afloat.
An hour later Wewak was under way and nosing carefully out of the entrance. Once safely out past the many sandbars speed was increased and course set of the Flinders Island Group. This was almost directly across the ‘chord’ of the great curve of Princess Charlotte Bay.
Within another hour the low coast had dropped below the horizon and there was nothing to see but the flat, gently undulating sea. Willy talked, read, and tried to snooze. But it was so hot that all he seemed to do was sweat. Lunch was eaten with no enthusiasm. Willy resigned himself to another boring, sweaty afternoon.
Then at 1:00pm he heard Graham calling his father. “What is it?” Capt Kirk called from his bunk. He usually slept during the day because he was awake and on watch at night so was short tempered and not amused at being woken up.
Coasts of Cape York Page 36
