Chapter 1
It was mid morning when Len nosed his barge up on the beach and stepped ashore on the warm white sand. He took his rifle and his cane knife then carefully looked around his eyes peeled for crocodiles and wild pig. Satisfied it was safe he let Bluey his old blue cattle dog off the lead and started out over the sand towards the big tree on the edge of the river mouth.
After a few hours exploring Len returned happy that he had found the abandoned remnants of an old galvanized iron igloo and concrete airstrip built by the Americans in the forties during the Second World War. Len knew from talking to locals that the Americans surveyed an area for water before they stationed their troops in remote areas. After talking to those old locals about the facilities provided for the American airmen he knew it wouldn't be long before he found the well or the bore that they would have drilled to provide one of the basic necessities in the remote tropics.
With a safe river anchorage protected from the Gulf Cyclones by the sand banks and a high red cliff face, he decided that he may have found a perfect location to establish his new camp. Tired after his survey he waded through the incoming tide climbed on his barge lit a smoke boiled the Billy and thought back over the last days.
More than a week had passed since he had left the gulf town that had been his home port for years. He had made up his mind to move after a night of rape and violence when the local aborigine kids burnt homes and destroyed all the vehicles in the council yard. Before he left he met the elders and councilors in the main street outside the store and told them a few home truths in a way that left them standing in stunned silence as he headed back to the wharf.
With all his possessions including his old blitz truck crammed on his sixty foot landing barge and towing his dinghies crowded with crab pots and nets he had spent days easing his way up thought the shallows and sand banks of a dozen Gulf Rivers and streams looking for a place to set up a new camp.
A bush Parson who had spent years in the north had told him of the many wartime airstrips that dotted the Gulf. He said that in most cases the strips were constructed quite close to the mouths of the big tidal rivers providing deep water access for the American troops. Len had never forgotten the Parsons words and had set out to find an old strip when he left town. To his surprise the one near his camp was covered by light undergrowth that would not take much to clear. He recalled as he planned his camp how the parson had said that it was on the cards that the strips could eventually be partly reopened for a growing outstation movement populated by aborigine families that wanted to move their kids away from the grog soaked towns and reserves.
"I hope they don't reopen this one. We don't want any neighbors," Len told Bluey as he moved the barge up the beach on the high tide. Days passed quickly as he unloaded his gear and moved it to high ground. With everything including the old blitz truck finally unloaded and covered with tarps he started to build his camp. Working from daylight to dark he struggled to create a temporary place from which to build a long term home.
He worked knowing that all of his construction work was temporary until he found the bore the Americans would have sunk years ago. Without water this site could only be a temporary home. So he was over the moon when he finally found the wartime well under an overgrown steel cover near the big Fig tree. To his delight the water was cool and sweet having filtered its way up through the white coastal sand.
Now that he had a constant supply of fresh water he started to build more permanent structures. With his generator operating he piped water to fill his tanks and provide fish processing facilities. With his nets set and the ability to store his processed fish he started on the job of building a place to live. The biggest job working on his own was to construct a camp centre with a high roof to house his kitchen and living area. Len spent a lot of time on the foundations knowing his structures had to withstand the powerful winds that whipped across the gulf as well as provide protection from the harsh tropical sun and the torrential rains. With his camp growing and his nets working the gulf flats he erected a mast and established radio contact with the fisherman's co-op to keep in touch with market prices.
The work was hard on his own. Things that should have taken hours took days forcing Len to reduce the time spent building to concentrate on fishing. The sandy coastal flats had not been fished for years and the quality and quantity of his daily catch created added work as he prepared them for the market.
When his barge's freezers could hold no more fish it was time to return to sell his catch in the town he had left so abruptly. Even with his freezers full Len found it hard to head back to town. His new camp was still very basic but it was peaceful and quiet free from the pressures of town life.
The decision was made for him when his radio contacts told him a new southern buyer had flown in to buy fish prawns and crabs from the gulf fisherman. When he could wait no longer he locked down his camp fire and waited to the last minute until he could catch the top of the tide and take a shortcut across the flats back to town.
On reaching the town wharf he was disappointed to see a number of large company owned Gulf trawlers tied up ahead of him making it impossible for him to keep to his plan of unloading and returning to camp on the same day.
Leaving Bluey aboard to guard his catch he drifted down the wharf and set out to walk along the five mile track to the town and its community supermarket. He was walking slowly in the mid morning heat when a new four wheel drive utility groaned to a halt beside him.
"Want a lift into town friend?" a woman called as he looked around to see a large happy faced brunette winding down the window of the Ute. You'll roast in this heat," she cried as she swung the door open. "You're bloody right," Len said as he jumped at the chance of a lift. Once they were moving the woman took one hand from the wheel and shoved it out in a gesture that meant shake hands. "I'm Glady, I'm a new teacher at the school and I also double as a nurse at the clinic. Who are you? I haven't seen you before."
"I'm Len Evans, I used ton live here until a couple of months ago," Len replied. "I decided to give this place away after the kids destroyed most of the community property." Glady looked him over, "oh are you the one I heard about when I arrived last week. They are still talking about the way you gave the women elders on the council a serve. If I'm right you accused them of closing a blind eye to the rapes and violence."
"The teachers who were here before me cheered when they were told you publicly attacked the men calling them a mob of drunken bludgers who were ruining their kids lives by letting them wag it from school. Non locals say you generally said what everyone who works here knows to be true before you told them they could take their community and shove it. You were off to live on your own. Is that about it?" Len smiled "yes it wasn't my best performance, I didn't miss them but it wont do any good they will just buy another six pack."
Glady pulled up in front of the Council offices, "what are you doing back here if you hate the place so much?" she asked with a wicked grin. Len decided he liked Glady. "I'm tied up down in the creek waiting to unload a freezer load of fillets. I have to keep coming back to the co-op because I order my stores by phone from a catalogue and they send them up from the south on the fuel freighter. I pick them up, fill up with fuel and pay my bills when I get cashed up from selling my fillets."
"I'm here until tomorrow afternoon because we have to wait for the fuel barge to arrive and pump its load into the storage tanks. If you and the other new teachers are tired of drinking with each other in the confines of that school house bring them down to the wharf tonight and give me a call. I'll give you a feed of fresh seafood in return for a little conversation."
Len was sitting on the deck enjoying the cool evening breeze when he saw Gladys utility and another car approaching. It took him two trips in the tiny pram dinghy before the eight teachers were settled on the rear deck. "They all wanted to meet you," Glady explained. "Some want to argue with you over the town's future others just want to get out of the house and hear a new voice or a new point of view."
Len realised how much he had missed female companionship as he argued and joked with the young women teachers. They all kissed him on the cheek as they introduce themselves, telling him he was the best thing that had happened since they arrived with Gladys a week ago.
"What makes my visit so special?" he growled as he poured their drinks and laid out some prawns and crabs on the table. "A fit single sober white man without a pot belly is a bit of a novelty," a short curly headed girl who told him to call her Kim said as she slumped back on his bunk.
Gladys laughed, "Don't kid yourself. I don't think any of us came up here expecting to meet an eligible bachelor. What we didn't know was that we would have to lock ourselves up each evening in a school house fenced with razor wire to escape the drunken violence. We never leave our compound at night it's too dangerous. We didn't decide to visit you tonight until we asked the police sergeant to keep an eye out and let us back into the compound when we get back."
"I am surprised that the government sent young women up here," Len said when they grew quiet. "We volunteered," Kim called, "it helps your future promotion chances if you take a difficult school early in your career. Now you know why we're here what's your story."
