Girl in an Empty Cage

by Graham Wilson

  Chapter 27 – Swimming with River God Baru

  Vic looked at the sky and the sun, part seen through cloud. His mind clock and belly said mid-morning; the tide was getting close to full, perhaps an hour or two to go until the peak. Now the water was starting to bubble around his feet and he knew that, ready or not, he must take to it. But he had one last thing he needed to do. He still had his plastic flight map of the area. He must survey it and determine where he might find a way to get out of this river valley. Even though it was at a large scale the detail was surprisingly good.

  So he located the Fitzmaurice River and followed his route of yesterday, up the course of the river until that tight bend there and the fatal cliff. He remembered a big creek off to the other side just back. If he was on that side it would be an obvious way out. But despite his float there was no way he could get to the other side of this huge torrent.

  His best bet was to stay close to this edge, where rocks and ledges slowed the flow a bit. So he followed the valley down on the map with his eyes. He had a vague memory of a steep and jagged gully cutting down a couple miles back. Not much more than a crack in the cliff really, but something to aim for. Sure enough that looked like it and the map showed it running back into the hills for a way, so it looked like a creek ran down it in the rain. Now he had a destination to aim for.

  The water almost completely covered the rock shelf now. He clipped his helmet to a strap around the foam float, he pushed the metal poles into the straps where they would not fall out and pushed the lighter into the smallest pocket of his shorts and zipped it closed. He half stumbled, half crawled to where the rock shelf fell away into the deeper water. He deliberately avoided looking at the crocodile lest his nerve failed.

  Suddenly the current picked him up and he was floating down the river about five metres out from the edge. He decided to go out a bit further, it gave him a better view forward along the cliff and he was also less likely to be bashed into rocks on the edge. He looked around, the crocodile was nowhere in sight.

  He tried to estimate the distance he was covering and his speed by taking reference points along the cliff, estimating their distance away and counting how long it took to reach them. It was far from accurate but his estimate was that he was doing something around 10 kilometres per hour. He barely kicked or paddled, deciding to save his energy and watch as the cliff faces swept past him.

  He estimated that at this rate it would take between twenty and thirty minutes to reach the place he wanted to try and climb out from. It was only a guess but it was good to have something to occupy his mind as he felt very vulnerable floating down this large river knowing that at least one crocodile was somewhere nearby. He just hoped that the place he was heading for would have somewhere to climb out of the water; where he was travelling now the cliffs rose sheer from the water for more than a hundred feet.

  After what seemed like about fifteen minutes he noticed a thin crack visible high on the cliff line, a few hundred yards in front of him. He wondered if this was it, but there was nothing further down the cliff and as he reached and passed under this place he realised that this crack must be a creek which ended in a waterfall. He watched a thin line of water fall a hundred feet into the river below. He moved a bit further out into the river as he passed below it, both to avoid its spray and to widen his angle of view. Another green line in the cliff was coming up in a few hundred yards. This one seemed to track all the way to the bottom. He began to paddle and kick his way back towards the edge. It was slow work as he could only use his good leg. Each time the broken leg got jerked around by the current pain shot through his body.

  Now he could see it clearly. There was no obvious rock shelf but a ribbon of green ran all the way to the water’s edge and a couple of the trees at the bottom appeared to have their trunks partly covered by water. So if he could get into those it would give him something to hang onto and stop his passage.

  Now the gap to the trees was closing and he could see better. One tree looked like it had two trunks about a foot apart. He would try to aim for the point where the water ran between them and jam himself tightly into the gap while he grabbed on to one side. He looped his arm through the strap between the bundles and tried to maintain his line. As he closed the gap, the trees seemed to be rushing towards him very fast.

  He was there, his body slammed into part of the trunk with a huge weight of water behind him. His broken leg bashed into the trunk lower down and he almost screamed aloud with the pain. He wondered if his body would be torn through the gap with the still rising water but it jammed firm. The weight of the water was too strong to get out of this place, he could not push free. He must hang on and hope that the water either slowed further on the incoming tide, or fell low enough later in the day for him to get out of this tree and up the bank. It would be easier said than done. From here he could see no way out up the creek; the crack in the cliffs just vanished into gloom behind a wall of trees and creepers though he could hear the noise of running water coming down the hillside from behind. He forced himself to relax and stay calm, to savour the pleasure of having made it thus far.

  Now he felt very tired and his body craved rest. He realised it was mostly hunger; it was over a day since he had eaten anything and in this cold water he was burning energy fast. He felt a light headed dreamy feeling steal over him. He thought of bars of chocolate, bowls of steaming stew and slices of bread and butter as his stomach growled. He decided to let the fantasy take him to block out the reality and pass the time.

  The sun sat in a mid-morning position. He thought of yesterday’s breakfast, a large plate of fried eggs and bacon, on thick toast slices, washed down with steaming coffee. Then he thought of his mother’s cooking, her light and fluffy cakes, served with cream or ice cream. He deliberately followed the food trail in his mind; great slabs of steak, hot buttered potatoes, bowls of pasta and rice.

  He may have dozed in this dreamy state. He realised that his body was being lifted up the tree, now the gap was widening between the two trunks, he had risen at least a foot, maybe more, and in about another foot the gap would let him pass through. Now he must turn his attention to what to do next, the force of the water had definitely eased.

  He measured the distance to the edge, where other trees grew and where the flow was slack. There was a batch of trees about five metres downstream and a similar distance across from where he was. If he could get to them they may allow him to get to the bank or to the rock face edge, or whatever lay out of view beyond the trees. He thought about how best to do it. When his body was high enough to pass between the trunks he would use his good leg to push off from this tree trunk as far as he could go toward the next destination. Then kicking with his good leg he could put out an aluminium pole and try to hook a tree before the current carried him past.

  It did not quite work out that way, the flow was still strong and he was not yet high enough to pass through. But it had eased enough to let him slide around the side of the trunk, away from the centre. He pushed his way out and around, inch by inch, his injured shoulder hurting as he used this arm to help force himself back against the current. But at last he got free and then got his float free.

  Now he rested for a minute holding tightly to one trunk; that exertion had taken a big part of his reserve of strength. When he felt the tiredness ease he bunched himself up with his good leg against the trunk, took a deep breath, pushed and struck out. The current was much stronger than it looked and he was rapidly being swept along the bank and back towards the main river. He only had two more metres to cross but was fast coming to the edge of the treed place, just a bare rock cliff again.

  With all his effort he paddled and kicked for the edge, missing the last tree but managing to grab hold of the protruding rock of the cliff where the fissure ended. He realised that the creek running out of the gap in the cliff had a strong flow and was pushing him back into the main channel.

  He had stopped right where the creek m
et the main river. There was a slight back eddy where he was, so it was easy to hold on. Now he had a good grip of the edge he set about pulling himself back along the rock ledge following the creek up into the fissure. He had to do this by inches now, to bring himself around the rock edge into the side channel and then along its side. The hand holds at water level looked few and far between and he was terrified that if he lost his grip he would be swept back into the river. He needed to stop and think before he did something stupid.

  He looked above. There was a broken slope rising up above him for about five metres which he thought he could climb, using hand holds and the occasional foothold. Up there it looked like there was a ledge running back along the side of the fissure that he could follow.

  Climbing with only one leg and with one shoulder which hurt to move and lacked strength, was extraordinarily hard, particularly carrying his gear. But he was determined not to surrender it to the river; he carried his future survival in that small bundle. His bruised shoulder screamed loud in protest. He realised he was soft from days sitting on a seat in a helicopter. At last he pulled himself clear of the water. He rested for a minute. Slowly he began to climb up the rock face, little by little, it looked about a sixty degree face, not sheer but mostly a dead lift with his arms. It seemed to take forever but at last he came to a clear flat ledge, about a foot wide. He lifted his bottom onto this and turned to sit, facing out to the river, arms feeling like jelly and his whole body trembling with fatigue.

  As he did he looked below at the raging river. He saw that the tide had started to fall away. While the river level had not fallen appreciably the rate of flow had increased again, a white broken surface returning. The sun was now at its highest and it said his river trip so far had taken two or three hours. He realised that if he had not got out here and now he would have been taken again and smashed by this water, it was now again too strong to swim against.

  As he watched a shape emerged from the water, next to the edge just below him, tail waving steadily to hold it against the current. It surfaced, almost its full length, raised its head as if to nod to him, and opened and closed its nearest eye. He could have sworn it winked. He felt a sense of Mark speaking to him, “I have got you here; now you must do your part; Susan needs your help, you must return.”

  Vic could not help himself, he knew it was ridiculous but could feel himself grinning. He raised his hand and waved back. He called out, at the top of his voice, “Message received, over and out.”

  With that the crocodile rolled its body over and slid sideways into the water, disappearing with the flow. Vic knew from here it was all up to him. And he did not give a damn whether others called it ‘superstitious claptrap’. He knew his mate had returned and given him something he must do. It was the least he could do for his brother of the crocodile spirit.

  Forever after Vic remembered this strange being as the River God Baru, ancient crocodile creature of the dreamtime or perhaps of Egyptian myth, a being who held power over this river and all things within it.