by Tony McKenna
‘This throws a very different aspect on the situation.’ The sergeant in charge of the station was speaking to both the boys’ parents in one of the interview rooms. Alice and Jean were crying softly and their husbands sat beside them stony-faced with shock and disbelief.
‘There’s no point in being overly concerned.’ The sergeant paused, taking a deep breath. ‘But we are going to drag the waterhole in the river near the bend where the bike was found.’ He held up his hand as Jean and Alice gasped ‘It’s only a precaution, but we have to eliminate all possibilities.’
Chapter Eight
Alice was at the Turner house. Alice’s sister had come to collect the younger children and Jean’s parents had taken her children back to their house. Both fathers were down at the river where the police were putting a boat in the water and officers clad in overalls were arranging ropes with grappling hooks. A crowd had begun to gather to watch the activities but the police had dispersed them and roped the area off. There were radio news people and newspaper journalists there, cameras flashing. It seemed bizarre to Jack and Claude who didn’t think for one minute that the boys would have either taken the bike or gone swimming in the river. Fortunately they had been able to convince their wives of these facts, but it was unnerving for them to watch the grim event taking place as the men in the boat threw grappling hooks into the river searching for possible bodies.
Gus Boldini parked the milk truck in the dairy yard, locked it and went into the small office at the front of the building to complete his paper-work. He had just returned from his regular run to Northam and was looking forward to getting home but had to leave the delivery dockets on the bookkeeper’s desk so the invoices could be attended to early the next morning before he came on duty again.
He switched the radio on, tuned the dial to the ABC and whistled quietly along with the orchestra playing. He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that that it was almost seven o’clock. The familiar news theme filled the office as Boldini worked and he figured he should be finished the end of the news bulletin.
He didn’t pay a lot of attention to the items but his ears caught the mention of ‘Ashmorton River’ so he turned the volume up to concentrate more closely on the broadcaster’s deeply modulated voice.
‘Police this afternoon dragged a section of the Ashmorton River following the disappearance of two teenage schoolboys and the discovery of an abandoned bicycle beside the river. The boys, missing since Tuesday, have not been seen since they left for school that morning and there are grave concerns for their whereabouts. The boy’s parents declined to be interviewed but a police spokesman said …’
Gus Boldini didn’t wait for the rest of the broadcast. It hit him like a ton of bricks that the two missing boys must have been Jack Ferguson and Harry Turner that he had driven to Northam in his truck on Tuesday afternoon. It added up now, two teenage boys, missing since Tuesday … He rushed from the office, not bothering to switch off the wireless, slammed the door shut behind him and ran to his car.
The Turners were now at the Fergusons, relieved by the result of the police river search but confused, nonetheless. They had just heard the ABC news item and when Jack switched the wireless off they sat silently in the lounge room not knowing what else to say when there was a frantic knocking on the front door.
At first Jack didn’t recognise the swarthy man standing on the porch but invited him in when he said who he was and that he had news of the boys.
They sat listening, without interruption, as Gus Boldini relayed what had happened on the Tuesday. ‘I’m sorry, Jack.’ He shook his head when he finished the story. ‘I believed everything they said. Bloody stupid of me it was, but they were so convincing.’
‘Not your fault, Gus,’ Claude replied.
‘Thank goodness they’ve come to no harm.’ Alice couldn’t stop sniffling but smiled through her tears.
‘What do we do now?’ Jean asked.
‘First thing we do is let the police know that they are in Northam so they can look for them tomorrow. Who do they know up there? Alice … Claude? Any ideas?’
They shook their heads.
‘I’ve always thought there was something fishy about this bike business. I just knew they couldn’t be involved in leaving that bike down by the river. That bloody Munse kid is going to be in a lot of hot water now for sending the police on a wild goose chase.’ Jack was angry, his teeth clenched.
‘Forget about the Munses for now, Jack.’ Claude anxiously paced the floor. ‘Have to find those silly young buggers before they get into any major trouble.’
Jack telephoned the local police station and reported what Gus Boldini had told them.
‘Let’s all try and get a bit of sleep now, as hard as that may be,’ he said when he hung up. ‘You and I will drive up to Northam at first light in the morning, Claude.’
‘Righto, Jack.’
‘Shouldn’t you go now, Claude?’ Jean wiped her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief.
‘No point,’ Jack answered kindly. ‘We couldn’t do much at this time of night anyhow, Jean. We’ll get there early in the morning and find them. Northam’s not that big and someone will have seen them. With the police looking as well we’ll have them back home safe and sound in no time.’
The Holden was pushed to its limits as Jack headed toward Northam in the early hours of Thursday morning. He knew he was driving fast but was experienced in travelling on the open road.
‘Need to keep an eye out for roos, Jack.’ Claude concentrated on the road and surrounding bush ahead of the car as dawn broke over the Avon ranges.
Arriving in Northam they drove to the police station and knocked on the door as it was well before office hours. When there was no answer the two men went to the house next door A man answered their knock with a not too pleased expression on his face. He held a mug of steaming tea in his hand. ‘What can I do for you? I’m Sergeant Mitchell, the office isn’t open yet. I hope this is important.’
They explained who they were and why they were in Northam and the policeman apologised for being gruff and said he had received a call from the Ashmorton station the night before. He invited them in but they decided to wait until he had breakfasted and then they went into the station when he opened up a short time later.
The policeman said he would get a couple of his men to make enquiries around the town and see what information they could turn up on the boys. ‘Not too hopeful though,’ He told the two men. ‘We usually know when anyone strange comes into town and is seen around the streets. I’m sure if your boys had spent a couple of days here someone would have seen them by now and my blokes keep a pretty close ear to the ground. Still, we’ll have a look around; what are your plans?’
‘Thought we’d ask some of the shopkeepers if they might have seen them, maybe go to the school. Not sure where to start really but just couldn’t sit at home and do nothing.’
Claude nodded in agreement with Jack ‘You don’t mind if we ask a few questions around do you?’
‘Not the usual thing to do but under the circumstances I can understand your concern. The more the merrier as they say.’ The sergeant picked up the telephone. ‘I’ll let my senior constable know and he can have a check on his way to the station. Do him good to get an early start too as I’m already up.’ He smiled at the two men. ‘We’ll do our best, I’m sure something will turn up.’ He began to spin the handle on the phone to reach the exchange. ‘Call back here around lunchtime.’
Jack and Claude drove to the main street, parked the car and stepped onto the footpath. Shopkeepers were opening their doors, placing advertising boards on the street and sweeping paths in front of their shops, readying themselves for the day’s trading.
‘No point doing them all,’ Jack reasoned. ‘They’d only go to places that sell things like food or clothes or such. Waste of time going to all the shops.’ They passed by a furniture retailer and a haberdashery store and went into a bakery enticed by the smell of freshly bake
d bread and pastries.
Back at the station just before noon Jack and Claude excitedly told the sergeant that two boys answering their sons’ descriptions had bought a loaf of bread and some rolls at a bakery on the main street and asked for directions as to where the white swans were.
‘Then we went a few doors up the street and went into a fish and chip shop,’ Jack explained. ‘It seems the girl there remembers a couple of young boys, who she didn’t know and carrying bags with them, bought sixpence worth of chips. It had to be them, eh?’ Jack was animated and couldn’t stand still.
‘It’s a possibility, yes.’ The sergeant was non-committal.
‘We went down to the river but of course they weren’t there, but at least it’s a start,’ Jack said hopefully. ‘Those boys just love a river … don’t they, Claude?’
‘Trail’s a bit cold, gents.’ The sergeant didn’t want to raise their hopes too much. ‘But, yes, at least it confirms they were probably here but I wonder where they are now? Do they know anyone in the area?’
‘Not that we know of.’ Jack scratched his chin thoughtfully ‘I know a few people here because of work but I’m sure the boys know no one here though, do they, Claude?’
‘We’ve racked our brains on that question, sergeant, no luck there. I can’t imagine why they would come here to Northam, it’s a mystery to us.’
A uniformed officer came to the door and motioned to the sergeant to join him out of the room. He glanced at Jack and Claude and the sergeant excused himself and stepped from the room, closing the door behind him.
‘Wonder what that’s about?’ Claude queried.
‘Don’t know, mate, could be anything. I guess these coppers have more on their plates than just worrying about our two young runaways. Little buggers, I’ll tan Jack’s hide when I find him that’s for sure.’
‘That’s what I feel like too, Jack, but quite honestly I’ll be just so pleased to see them that I’ll probably forget to yell at them.’ He looked up as the sergeant returned with the young officer at his side.
‘Well, Dave, better tell them the news then.’
‘News! What news?’ Concern showed clearly on the two men’s faces. ‘You got some news about the boys?’
‘Dave here,’ The sergeant indicated the constable, ‘was down at the railway station checking on some vandalism there and mentioned your boys to the stationmaster. It seems two boys answering the description you gave us bought tickets on the train that left on Tuesday night bound for Kalgoorlie.’
‘Kalgoorlie! What the hell would they be going to Kalgoorlie for and where did they get the money to buy tickets?’ Jack was puzzled.
The young constable looked at his sergeant who nodded. ‘Ahh, sir?’ The young man addressed Jack. ‘The stationmaster said that the boys never queried the price of the tickets and paid cash for them. He got the impression that the cost was of no concern to them and he also noticed they had a few quid on them.’
‘I don’t believe it, Jack.’ Claude sounded troubled. ‘They have money on them! Where did they get that? Why would they be heading to Kalgoorlie?’
‘I’m not sure, Claude, but those Munses have something to answer to, that’s for sure. Those boys are on the run for something I’m sure they didn’t even do. They’ve obviously convinced themselves that they would go to jail over that bloody bike.’
The sergeant looked baffled so Jack explained to him and the constable what had led up to the boys’ disappearance. ‘I’ll put a call through to the Kalgoorlie station, gents, and alert our boys there to be on the lookout. They’ll turn up,’ he encouraged.
‘Kalgoorlie … on the train.’ Claude said mainly to himself. ‘Yeah and do you know what, Claude?’
‘What, Jack?’
‘On Tuesday night when I drove back to Perth after I got the message about the boys I stopped at Merredin at the level crossing to let a train go through. Do you know what bloody train it was?’ He continued without waiting for an answer. ‘The ‘Kalgoorlie Miner’! I was yards from my boy and didn’t know it, Claude. Just yards from them both.’
Chapter Nine
Writing the letters home was a disturbing experience for both boys. When each of them had composed the one page rough note they compared what they had written to ensure neither one had divulged anything in the letters that could reveal their exact whereabouts or give a clue to any future plans. They made some minor edits then carefully, in their best handwriting, wrote their final messages to their parents.
Father O’Malley returned to his office as they finished writing and seating himself at his desk, read each note in turn, smiling occasionally to himself as he did so.
‘Well done, boys.’ He looked up from the cautiously composed notes. ‘Now if you would address the envelopes I’ll get these in the mail for you.’ He took two white envelopes from a drawer and handed them to Jack and Harry. ‘The sooner your parents get these the better, as it will ease their concern. I dare say they will continue to worry about your welfare though, but at least they will know you are safe, to some degree.’
He stood and motioned them to follow him from the room. Walking into the bright noon sunlight the boys squinted from the glare, marvelling at how much hotter it was in the Goldfields than at home in Perth even though it was only about three hundred miles east of the coast.
‘You plan to be away for some time I imagine, what preparations have you made for suitable clothing?’ The priest looked at their light cotton shirts and gabardine trousers.
He noticed Jack’s elastic-sided boots and grunted satisfaction but then noticed Harry’s thin-soled, laced school shoes. ‘You will need some better footwear, Harry, and both of you will need hats and some harder wearing clothes if you still plan to head into the bush. It’s very inhospitable and tough country out there.’ The boys looked uncomfortably at each other, aware that they were ill prepared for the journey.
‘What can we do about it, Father, can you suggest where we can get what else we need?’ Jack was pleased that his boots were obviously acceptable.
‘Let’s go and get some lunch, boys, and we can make out a list of things you will need, keeping in mind that you will have to travel light though. Don’t want to be carting heavy loads with you.’
Mrs Lacey had set out a platter of cold chicken, a loaf of bread and a bowl of fresh salad on the large table. The boys weren’t all that hungry having had a substantial breakfast but the housekeeper hovered over them. ‘Eat up boys; growing young men need to be well fed.’ She piled more meat onto their plates.
The priest began to list items they would need for the trip. ‘I take it you have some money with you to purchase some goods?’ He looked across the table. ‘I can lend you some if you’re short.’
The boys were amazed at this generous offer. Nobody had ever treated them quite like this before, as grown men but they assured the priest that they ‘probably had enough.’
Father O’Malley smiled to himself and nodded with satisfaction at their honest, but wary, acknowledgment. He was not about to reveal to them that Paddy, after a few too many nips of Irish whisky they had taken together the previous night, let slip that they had had ‘a bit of a windfall, Timothy, me lad’ at the two-up game.
After lunch they went with the priest to the shed at the rear of the presbytery and climbed into his ancient black Chevrolet when he backed it out of its shelter. Both boys looked anxiously at the priest as he scrunched the gears and drove off jerkily down the street with a trail of blue smoke behind them.
‘There’s a camping store that belongs to one of my parishioners,’ he explained. ‘I’m sure he’ll be taking good care of you with what you need and will be kind with the prices.’
The store was crammed with every type of gear from swags and tents to picks, shovels, kerosene lanterns, a large selection of work clothes, boots, shotguns, rifles, blankets and various items of army surplus goods. Father O’Malley handed the man in the store the list. They each got a swag, an enamelled mug,
plate, knife, fork and spoon, packets of water-proofed matches, a waterbag and canvas haversacks to replace their school bags.
They bought some heavy cotton work trousers, long-sleeved shirts, woollen socks and broad brimmed felt hats each. Harry tried on some work boots and settled, on the shopkeeper’s advice, for a pair of elastic-sided riding boots similar to Jack’s. ‘Easy to pull on and off,’ he advised. ‘And the flat heels are good for walking.’ The priest also insisted that they would need some warm clothing as the desert could get extremely cold so they added heavy woollen jackets to the growing pile of goods.
Both Jack and Harry were enthralled by the selection of firearms chained to a rack on the wall but knew they were too young to buy a rifle so each chose a Bowie styled hunting knife in a leather scabbard. When Father O’Malley saw them he wisely suggested that a knife was an essential tool but that they should consider something a little more practical and multi-purpose. They were at first disappointed but when the shopkeeper explained its features they took his advice and settled on bone handled, multi-bladed Stanley Rogers pocket knives. This purchase meant they also had to buy belts so they could carry the knives in the pouches for that purpose. Father O’Malley suggested they purchase a small pocket watch each, which they did. The watches also came with a sturdy leather pouch and these were attached to their belts as well. They left the store proudly wearing their newly purchased clothing and with swags and backpacks slung over their shoulders and hats pulled low over their eyes, imagining they were prospectors or stockmen. Their pockets were much lighter but they knew they needed the equipment they had bought if they were serious about where they were headed and they still had some cash reserves.
Father O’Malley said he would take their gear back with him to the presbytery and suggested they spend some time having a look around Kalgoorlie. He told them he had some tasks to attend to and suggested that they come back later in the afternoon to the presbytery so they could help him pack the car ready for the journey to Mt Margaret the next morning. Jack and Harry watched the black Chevy depart, a pall of smoke trailing behind it and wondered if it would even get to the end of the street let alone undertake a trip into the desert.
