Bony - 21 - Man of Two Tribes Page 13

  “Take an atom bomb to shift that,” jeered Riddell, and the girl said brightly:

  “That all? We’ll ask the aborigines to pass a few down.”

  “You can reach in, Inspector, and feel the hole in the wall about a foot up from the floor,” Maddoch informed him.

  “The dog,” Bony ordered.

  Lucy was brought. Bony on his knees pushed her forward, urging her to “Sick ’em! Sool-’em-up!”

  Lucy required little persuasion. She disappeared. Silence enabled them to hear her muffled barking, and when no one followed her, she returned. Bony suggested that they try again to move the boulder.

  He assisted. They heaved and hauled and pushed, grunt­ing from the effort.

  “Must be an upthrust, all right,” he said. “Anyone done any mining?”

  Jenks claimed to have worked on sinking wells in the New England district of New South Wales.

  “We’ll try an explosive charge, Jenks. Could you bore a hole in this rock for the charge? It will take time.”

  “With what?” Jenks asked.

  “I have eight steel tent pegs and a small hammer used for driving in pegs and repairing dingo traps. I’ll get them.”

  They followed him to his pack-bags, from which he produced the hammer and pegs, and Jenks examined the pegs with care.

  “They’re not steel, but good iron,” he said. “But wait on, now. Where’s the explosive?”

  Bony produced two boxes, each containing fifty high power rifle cartridges.

  “We extract the bullets. Cordite might do the trick,” he pointed out.

  “Yair, but what about detonators to set her off with?” persisted Jenks, and Bony explained that each cartridge had a percussion cap or detonator, and for fuse they would have to fashion a train of kerosened rags, light it, and run like hell.

  “It mightn’t work,” he warned them. “We can but try.”

  “You’re just tellin’ us,” agreed Riddell. “Let’s give it a go, Ted.”

  “First, remove the stove,” Bony advised. “Do it now, and Myra can get on with her baking. And grab that dog. She’ll have to be tied up.”

  The indignant Lucy was attached to the riding saddle, and Bony sat beside her. He could hear the low thuds of the ‘miners’ at work, and watch Myra, who was absorbed with her cooking, obviously an avenue of escapism.

  Havant came to sit beside Bony. The shaft of sunlight fell between them and the entrance of the main passage, and across the opening above passed woolly white clouds which Bony could only guess were southward bound.

  “You are wise to elect to wait for relief, Doctor,” he said, when it became apparent that Havant waited for him to speak. “I wish the others possessed as much wisdom. If we do manage to get out and away, you will not jeopardise our chances by making a rash move?”

  “Of course not. That would react on me, Inspector. What are your difficulties? What can I do? You will find me anxious to co-operate.”

  “My main worry is those wild aborigines. As I said, they will not rove the Plain at night, being too fearful of Ganba. This place is but three miles from the northern desert country where they live and feel safe.

  “If and when we can use the passage taken by the dog, we must on no account attempt to leave during daylight. It would be essential to be at least ten miles out on the Plain before the night passes, and we must trust to luck that our tracks won’t be found and followed. Alone, I wouldn’t have the slightest worry. With the others, and one a woman—you know their physical condition.

  “Assuming we can prevent undue haste, even panic, those who wait must on no account use that passage. In fact, I shall ask you to block it. You could resist the temptation to use it, even at night, but do you think you could control Maddoch?”

  “Yes. The woman, no. I shall be glad if she leaves with you.”

  “You are not an admirer?”

  “I am not an admirer, Inspector. To me she is repellent. She has likened herself to a hen in a yard of roosters, a Daniel in the den of lions. Actually she isn’t a hen, or a female Daniel. She is sexless without knowing it, but her husband knew it, and the knowledge was the basis of the animosity which led to his death.

  “She has what is termed, in layman’s language, a split mind, and I don’t mean a split personality. One part of the mind worships Myra Thomas, and the other constantly defends a Myra Thomas who is fearful of men, of sex, and of the penetration by women of the vanity behind the facade. So take her with you and lose her, Inspector.”

  “She goes with us, Doctor. Now tell me, what is your opinion of Mark Brennan?”

  “Brennan was, I think, the least affected by legal im­prisonment, and subsequently by these caverns. He realises most clearly his dependence on you to get them through. A likeable fellow in many ways, but … the psychiatrist can cure the mind which once was healthy; he can do nothing for a mind deformed at birth. I was able to do a great deal for Mitski. I have been able to help Maddoch. Nothing can be done for Brennan. But you will find him an excellent first mate. Riddell is merely a body ruled by low intelligence. Jenks is slightly higher and, I have discovered, the hardest to understand. There is a lot of good in Jenks. As for Doctor Havant, well, you know about him. You found him sucked dry of the will to live. You will find. … Did you see that shadow?”

  “Yes. There is someone up there.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Smell of Freedom

  “STROLL normally to the kitchen and tell them to stop work on the rock. Ask Brennan to come to me—without haste.”

  Havant rose and crossed to the annexe. The girl went on with her cooking. Bony yawned deliberately, lit a cigarette and avoided glancing up at the opening in the roof.

  “Sit down, Mark, I want to talk to you,” he said when Brennan appeared. “I shall rely on you to assist me in maintaining some kind of discipline from now on. I have been telling the doctor that our greatest hurdle is the aborigines. If you look up casually you may see one, or his shadow. The shadow of a man will move faster than that of a cloud.”

  “Abo, all right, Inspector. One’s looking down at us now.”

  “Be natural. Make a cigarette.” On looking upward, there was then nothing to be seen other than the fading blue of the early evening sky. “Are you convinced, Mark?”

  “Yes, of course. Why?”

  Bony reiterated what he had told Dr. Havant.

  “And so we break out of here precisely as though we were in Goulburn jail. Those aborigines are the warders, Mark. But we haven’t a night watch to contend with, and therefore all our work must be done at night. I’m glad that fellow’s appearance convinced you; you could help me to convince the others.”

  “Sure thing, I’ll do that. I understand, too, that we could make a muck of things, and toss away a hell of a good chance. The others’ll have to be drilled and bashed if they won’t fall in. You’ll find me on your side all the way. As I said, I’m going to get there, and I’m not standing for any back chat.”

  “Good! How’s the boring going?”

  “In about two inches. Think those abos heard the tapping?”

  “They could have done, but if we don’t persist they’ll be baffled. Tell the others to come out here and relax, pretend they are bored, fed up, and all that. I may persuade Myra to brew a billy of tea.”

  As Brennan was leaving, Myra left her stove and stood before Bony. He stood also, inviting her to be seated with him on the pack-saddle.

  “What’s the conference about?” she asked, coolly.

  “Aborigines. They’re up top.”

  “How d’you know that?”

  “I saw their shadows. Mark saw one fellow looking down at us.”

  “Oh! I thought you were plotting to leave me behind.”

  “I ought to have been doing just that, but I wasn’t. You have a pair of walking shoes?”

  “Don’t be silly. All I had on was a gown over pyjamas and a pair of slippers, when I found a man waiting outside the lavatory on the t
rain. He hit me instead of inviting me to dress. A lady doesn’t expect that kind of treatment, you know.”

  “Two hundred miles is a long walk in bare feet.”

  “The men haven’t any boots or shoes, Inspector. You’re lucky.”

  “The men’s feet are hardened. Yours are not. I am warning you that, should we escape, and should you refuse to wait with Havant and Maddoch, you may be abandoned.”

  “I would prefer even that to staying here a second longer than necessary. You don’t know what it’s like being a woman without a thing to wear.”

  “But I do know that you have much for which to be grateful to the doctor.”

  “Him!” she exclaimed, witheringly. “I wouldn’t be left alone with him for a million pounds, even though he could get me out of what he’d get me into. Still, I don’t know. A million …”

  “What about making us all a cup of tea?”

  “Tea! We’re talking about falling in and out of sin and you ask for tea. I could adore a man with a sense of humour.”

  She spoke quietly, looking at Bony with unconcealed admiration, her eyes candid and open to her mind. And still Bony was unable to decide whether she was being herself or Mae West.

  She made the tea, and presented each of them with a small cake she took from the oven. The doctor had schooled the men, and when he proposed a game of draughts, Riddell agreed. Bony invited Jenks to sit with him.

  “Hard rock?” he asked.

  “Worked harder … and softer. Went in about two inches so far with only one of the pegs. How far you think she oughta go?”

  “Eleven or twelve inches,” replied Bony. “What is your guess?”

  “ ’Bout that. Take a long time.”

  “That can’t be avoided. Anyway, we dare not fire the charge till after midnight, to be on the safe side.”

  “You sure them blacks is up above?”

  “Brennan saw one looking down. I saw their shadows. So did the doctor. They are up there, unquestionably, Jenks.”

  “Like to get me hands on one of them.”

  “A pleasure which would be short-lived.”

  “We takin’ that tart with us, if we get out?”

  “Should she wish to accompany us.”

  “Gonna to be a drag.”

  “Better for us all that she goes. If she remains she might do something foolish which would give away our escape to the abos.”

  “Then better dong her and chuck her into Fiddler’s Leap.” The suggestion was serious. It startled Bony, and he glanced sharply at the ex-sailor. A grin appeared to widen the greyish stubble on his chin. “I keep forgettin’ you’re a detective, Inspector.”

  “That could be dangerous, Jenks. We shall get through if we pull together, and if we don’t panic.”

  Bony detailed to Jenks the kind of opposition they would meet, and, as with Brennan, he urged extreme caution. An hour later he seized the opportunity to talk with Riddell.

  “Joe, you are the strongest man here,” he concluded. “Much depends on you. We shall have to take water, most of which you will be called upon to carry. After the first two or three days’ travel, speed won’t be so urgent, but food and drink will be essential right to the last yard. If we were in a real jail and planning a breakout, you would do your part, and see to it that the rest did theirs. Now, wouldn’t you?”

  “You’re tellin’ me, Inspector. What you says goes, and I’ll crash the bloke wot argues about that.”

  The colour faded from the faraway patch of sky and, eating dinner by lamp-light, they waited for the first star to appear above them. And when the star swung into the ragged patch, Bony permitted them to continue with the boring.

  Instantly they became again like boys setting out on adventure, working in relays, hammering the tent peg into the deepening hole having a diameter of little more than an inch. Dawn was promising another day when the hole was drilled sufficiently.

  They packed cordite into the hole. The caps were packed in, and, grinning joyfully, the keeper of kerosene liberally drenched torn up cartons and rags to serve as the fuse. It was Riddell who suggested that Bony take the honour of applying the match.

  In the hall they waited, Bony hoping that the dawn wind would blow the fumes of kerosene and burning material out over the Plain. The blast snapped against their ears, produced a cheer and a rush to the kitchen. The boulder lay split into three sections.

  They dragged the slabs away. They fought each other to lie prone, and look into the small hole, but a little larger than that Lucy would need. The scrimmage thus early made Bony despair. When it was over, and they all had looked into the hole, he said coldly:

  “May I now examine the result of the work on the boulder?”

  “Yair, of course,” responded Riddell, and Brennan had sufficient grace to be ashamed. He said: “You can see daylight, Inspector. But our chances don’t look so good.”

  Through a funnel Bony could see a larger space beyond it. The funnel sloped upwards sharply, and was less than two feet long. The space beyond the funnel appeared to be a narrow passage rising but a fraction less sharply than did the funnel.

  He ordered a lamp to be brought, and pushed it into the funnel to examine the rock surround. Then he saw faint lines of close cracks, and hope blossomed again.

  “Jenks!” he called. “See those cracks?”

  “Cracks, all right,” agreed Jenks. “Could try ’em out and might break through. Or another charge might shift some thing. Any cordite left?”

  “A little.”

  “It’s on again. Reach me that hammer and iron.”

  “Not now,” Bony said. “No hammering until tonight. Here’s the peg. Try levering here and there.”

  The peg was blunt, and Bony called for a fresh one, rolling aside to permit Jenks the room he required. He could hear the point of the peg feeling rock, and now and then Jenks grunted.

  “Might shift something with about two taps of the ham­mer,” Jenks said, and again was told to wait.

  Bony sat up, to encounter the gaze of the circle of spectators.

  “Go to the hall. Sing. Sing anything, but sing, and keep on singing. Beat time, mark time, to make a row. But keep it going.”

  With ‘party’ enthusiasm, tin plates were beaten and Myra Thomas began singing ‘Long, Long Trail’. Bony was astonished by the quality of her voice, and soon other voices joined in.

  “Go to it, Jenks,” he said, presenting the sailor with the hammer.

  Even thus close to the impact of the hammer, the sound was negligible. Bony could do nothing to help Jenks and the waiting gave him opportunity to plan the next move, could the opening be enlarged.

  ‘Long Trail’ became the ‘Bells of St. Mary’ and the ‘Bells’ changed to the chant of ‘Three Blind Mice’.

  “A bit’s givin’,” gasped Jenks. A move of position, the passing of a naked forearm across a bristly face, further effort. Then came a sound not of the hammer, a significant sound, and Jenks withdrew to examine the funnel by the light held by Bony.

  “Might bring down a ton or two of the ruddy wall. I know. Get us a line I can fix to the peg and then we’ll haul when standin’ well away.”

  The released Murderers’ Institute Singers were back on the ‘Trail’ when Bony crossed the hall to his gear. With hands and head he encouraged them to continue, and with greater vigour. Jenks found slight difficulty in attaching the line to the peg to give a degree of leverage. He grunted and swore, and grinned when they edged back towards the entrance of the hall. He spat on his hands, gripped the line, nodded to Bony who pressed behind him, and slowly they hauled.

  They could feel the peg moving. Against the distant light they saw the shape of the funnel altering … to become static again. They tried again with a fresh peg, the first bent and useless. And then there came a low grinding sound, and abruptly the shape of the funnel altered again. The funnel had become a tunnel.

  “Ahoy!” Jenks cried, and darted forward to the hole, now big enough to permit e
ven Riddell to pass with comfort.

  “Wait,” shouted Bony, and Jenks looked back when on hands and knees he was about to crawl through the opening —backward and upward into the muzzle of an automatic. “Stand up, Jenks. If you don’t obey, I’ll certainly shoot. That’s better. There will be no breaking out until dark tonight.”

  “Ruddy gun! You gotta a ruddy gun? Caw! I wasn’t goin’ to do no harm, Inspector.”

  “I thought you might, Jenks. In your excitement of course. Bring the gang.”

  They stood just within the entrance, to see Bony squatted on his heels before the ragged opening, the pistol in full view. He could see the elation in their eyes, their quivering mouths, their hands which trembled as though they held freedom, for now, at once. Before they could speak, he called Maddoch to him.

  “I am trusting you, Maddoch,” he said. “And if you fail me I’ll shoot you like a rabbit. Go through the hole, follow the passage beyond, see where it leads. Go as far as possible, and stop before you reach the open, if there is an opening to the ground above. Clear?”

  “Yes. You can trust me, Inspector.”

  The little man slid by into the hole. They heard the clink of rocks being moved to permit passage, and then only silence. Bony said:

  “Brennan, come here.” Brennan came forward and was told to stop at five feet from Bony. “I am trusting you, too, Mark. Remember what we spoke of about discipline?”

  “Of course. What do I do?”

  “I don’t want to shoot anyone, Mark, but I am deter­mined that our break-out shall be at the right time, in an orderly manner. I trust you to back me. The same applies to the rest of you. You have been warned repeatedly, and now I expect you to behave with reason and for the benefit of us all.”

  The initial surge of excitement threatening the bounds of control was subsiding, and resentment which had flamed in Jenks was dying. Silently they waited for the return of Maddoch.

  Maddoch came to the broken wall, came through the opening fast. He was beaming with joy, his face trans­figured. He reported to Bony: