Chapter Four
Ed
We had been there for about five weeks, and the team were making excellent progress. The Islanders were a wonderful people, so once we had gained their trust, we simply became part of the village. We moved the camp into the village, and Gillian and I moved into a hut of our own.
Gorran and I became friends, spending much of the time fishing and teaching each other crafts that we had both learned over the years. I taught him the basics of unarmed combat, and he taught me much about the jungle he inhabited.
Gill excelled herself. Her program enabled everyone to pick up the basics of their language, and Russell, Roger and Simon were all able to undertake their in-depth studies of this small group. She even managed to teach many of the villagers some English, and I marvelled at her patience and skills in languages.
I was able to relax, so it became almost began to feel like a vacation, until Mickey called me on the radio.
“Landing party, this is Lucky Lucy, are you receiving? Over.”
“Go ahead Lucy, you are loud and clear.”
“Ed, we have just had a severe weather warning. There is a hurricane on the way from the West. Over.” Mickey’s voice sounded worried.
“Roger that, Mickey. When’s it due?”
“Three days at best.”
“Are you making for safety?” I asked.
“Affirmative, I have to. I can’t stay here. I will run for the nearest port south of here. I will return and pick you up later. Good luck.”
“Roger, same to you, buddy. Safe sailing!”
I went out to the point, to see the Lucy turn and head due south, the sky was clear and it was a beautiful morning. The lull before the storm.
I made my way back to the village and, as always, a group of children followed me. Gorran was helping thatch another hut. Ironically, it had been destroyed by the previous storm a few days before we arrived.
“Gorran, big storm coming,” I said to him, in his language. He frowned and looked to the sky. Then he shrugged and shook his head.
I went to Russak’s hut and found him in deep conversation with Russell and Roger.
“I hate to be a party pooper, but I have just had word from Mickey. There is one big mother of a storm building up and heading our way. He has had to take the Lucy south to find a safe port. So we are on our own, kids,” I said.
“Big storm,” I said to Russak, who went to the door of his hut and sniffed the air. He nodded, slowly, and shouted to Gorran, who seemed surprised that we both thought the same thing.
Storms on this small island were a serious event. As there was no real protection, the whole island was open to the terrible winds and also from the high seas. The only recourse was for the people to bury valuables, and then move to the high ground, away from where trees and other debris could fall on them, to take cover in makeshift caves and depressions which had been dug specially, over the last few generations.
As we had some warning, we were able to make an orderly evacuation and reduce the potential impact on the islanders.
We built several storm shelters on the lee of the larger hill. Effectively, these shelters were foxholes dug into the side of the hill, with channels dug so that any water would drain away. Palm leaf screens were placed over the entrances, to keep the worst of the wind and rain out. Our tents were taken down and stored. They would come in handy after the deluge was over.
I sat in a hole with Gillian, Gorran, his woman, Mila, Russak, and Russell. The storm hit us at 23:00, two and a half days later. It was a real humdinger of a hurricane.
Winds of over 100mph whipped the island, and then the rain attacked like heavy calibre machine guns. Children screamed and there wasn’t one person who wasn’t afraid.
Russell cowered and whimpered, hugging his knees. Mila and Gorran hugged each other, while Gillian wrapped her arms around me. I was afraid, but I knew that I couldn’t show it, even if I wanted to. I grinned at Russak, who also gave the appearance of being entirely unafraid.
By daylight, the world was calm, but I knew that the eye of the storm was directly above us, so that we were not finished yet. We managed to cook a meal and the children calmed down. It is amazing how much better the world appears with a full belly. They were obviously used to such storms, for with a short space of time, they were all relaxed.
But then the storm shifted and the winds started picking up again. Everyone took cover again, so we settled down to wait out the next round. I became aware of a woman calling, and this became more and more panicky as the winds grew stronger.
I left the shelter and saw a woman called Kali standing shouting for one of her many children.
Bose was a ten year-old boy, and a real character. It seems when the calm arrived he decided to return to the village for something. He had not returned.
I went back to the shelter and told Gillian I was going to go look for the missing boy. As expected she wanted to come too, but I managed to persuade her to stay. Gorran said he would come, so I agreed. Russak looked at me strangely, so I smiled at the old man.
The winds were fast now, over 80 mph, and the rain hurt when the large drops hit. Gorran and I made our way slowly down the hill, towards the village.
The devastation was immediately apparent. Fallen trees and mudslides made the journey hazardous, and the winds and driving rain made it even worse. We reached the village, but there was no sign of the boy. We saw that there was going to be much work required to repair the damage to the huts, then we started to search for the boy.
Eventually, the wind and rain became too much, so we decided to make our way back to the shelters. As we came up a rise, the ground seemed to disappear from under our feet, and Gorran found himself being swept down a gigantic mudslide.
I had grabbed a tree and scrabbled to solid ground. Once there, I followed his progress as quickly as I could, unravelling the coiled rope I had brought with me.
At one point I managed to get ahead of him, so I tied one end of the rope to a tree, and set off into the torrent. I was able to reach the centre of the torrent, where I grabbed and managed to catch his left ankle. Despite the swirling mud and water, I managed to get his arm, and secured a length of rope around his shoulder. I made it back to the bank, from where I slowly pulled him to safety.
We lay, exhausted and spluttering on the bank, when I heard a faint cry.
Then I heard it again. Gorran raised his eyes and I nodded. The child was alive, but where?
We shouted and an answer came back from our left somewhere. We pulled ourselves up, attempting to trace the origin. My right knee was aching something terrible, but I knew I had to go on.
The wind shrieked through the trees, while branches and debris flew past us at high speed. Suddenly, Gorran grabbed my arm and pointed.
There, twenty feet up a tree, was a small figure. At the foot of the tree the swirling muddy water tore up roots and bank as it carved a path to the sea. The child had climbed to get safe, but now the very tree looked as if it were about to topple into the waters.
I looked at Gorran, but saw he was near to total exhaustion. His experience in the water had taken a lot from him. I selected the most fixed boulder I could see and tied off my rope. Then I wrapped the rope around my waist. I then climbed the tree, and managed, after cutting my hands to shreds on the rough bark, to reach the child. He was terrified, so clung to the tree as if his life depended on it. I managed to loop the rope around his body, and had just tied it off, when the tree started to fall.
The child shrieked and clung to me, and we both fell into the water. I felt myself being tossed about until the rope tugged at me, signifying I was at the end.
Inch by inch I heaved myself back towards the rock, Bose was on my back, and spent most of the time screaming. At least I knew he was alive.