Flight of the Jabiru (15 page)

Monty thought about it. “In the bar of the Hotel Darwin, most likely,” he said. “Colin could take you there.”

“Did I hear my name being used in vain?” Colin asked as he walked in.

“You did,” Monty said. “Lara has something to ask you.”

“I'm all ears,” Colin said, looking pleased.

“I want you to take me to a hotel in the city,” Lara said.

“Okay, but I'd have to ask Betty if I can have a night out on the town with another woman,” Colin added with a smirk.

Lara shook her head and managed a smile. “I want to hire a crocodile hunter,” she said. “Monty says that's where I'll find one. Apparently they drink at the Hotel Darwin.”

“Too right, but they're not cheap,” Colin said.

“I'm sure I could negotiate with a potential candidate,” Lara said confidently.

“My dear, you could charm the birds from the trees,” Monty said.

“The birds can stay, it's the crocs I want gone,” Lara said determinedly.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Overlooking the esplanade, the Darwin Hotel opened its doors on July 9 1940. Although quite grand, with an upper floor of accommodation, Colin informed Lara that the hotel attracted a real mix of clientele and that there was a real divide between the classes. Upon entering the white washed hotel he took Lara into the Green Room, where the civil servants and wealthy farmers and their families were entertained by bands on Friday and Sunday nights. Likened to ‘Raffles' of Singapore, the Green Room was light and airy, with plush green carpet and walls, high ceilings supported by ornate white columns, lush potted palms, and it overlooked an abundant tropical beer garden complete with fish pond.

Colin explained that the front bar of the hotel attracted a very different clientele, but they were big drinkers and therefore good customers. Because of its proximity to the wharf and esplanade, it was the ‘watering hole' of choice for seamen, laborers, fishermen, and the crocodile hunters who were a tough bunch of heavy drinking brawlers, as mean as the crocs they hunted. The dress code implied shoes and a shirt must be worn, but none of the staff dared enforce it.

“I'm sure they'll be on their best behavior when I talk to them,” Lara said casually.

Colin was aghast. “You can't go into a bar, Lara, not in the city, and you certainly shouldn't go into the bar in this hotel.”

“Why not? My business will only take a few minutes.”

“It's strictly men only, which is just as well. A lady shouldn't be subjected to the type of language used by ruffians.”

“If I can't go into the bar, how am I going to persuade a crocodile hunter to come out to Shady Camp and take care of the crocodile problem? I need to talk to them in person.”

“You tell me what to say, and I'll act as a go between,” Colin suggested helpfully.

Lara wasn't sure this was going to work. “All right,” she reluctantly agreed.

“You could wait out the front of the hotel, but the sun is a bit hot for an English lassie, so I suggest you wait in the Green Room,” Colin suggested.

Lara didn't take long to make up her mind. She'd noticed that the windows at the front of the hotel were open, so she opted to wait outside. She might not be able to overhear what was going on inside, but she could see Colin, and more importantly, the men could see her.

After bombarding Colin with specific instructions, Lara sent him into the bar feeling like one of her students. He was to sound out some crocodile hunters and point her out as the prospective client. If any showed keen interest he was to talk down their price and, if necessary, bring the interested party outside to talk to her.

From outside, Lara observed Colin purchasing a pint at the bar. That hadn't been one of her instructions, but he'd told her he'd have to have a couple of coldies because it wouldn't be Australian if he didn't.

“Could you tell me if any of the blokes here this afternoon hunt crocodiles?” Colin asked the barman, raising his voice to be heard above the din. As he glanced around, he observed men playing two-up, card games, and arm wrestling. Although the croc hunters were legendary by reputation, he didn't know many personally and he couldn't see anyone familiar.

“Ya see that very tall fella with an angry expression on his face,” the barman said pointing to a man that was head and shoulders taller than any other man.

Colin could see his profile and huge arms and decided he wouldn't want to meet him on a lonely road in the dark. “Don't tell me...”

“Yeah, he's a croc hunter. I think his name is Tony, but he's known as Timber, for obvious reasons. The nuggety man with him is Wally Wazak, a crazy Polak. The other dopey looking man is Daryl McKenzie, or Dazza. He comes across as rather simple, but rumor has it that he's fearless when it comes to crocs. He's more likely reckless or plain stupid, but all three are supposedly good hunters.”

“Are they the only croc hunters here?” Colin asked.

“They are today,” the barman said, understanding Colin's reluctance to do business with them. “If you shout them a beer, they might talk to you,” he added.

Colin guessed the men were big drinkers, but he couldn't afford to shout drinks.

“I'll see how I go first,” he said to the barman dispiritedly.

“Suit yourself,” the barman said, not liking his chances.

Colin sculled half of his pint to steady his nerve and then approached the men.

At first they didn't notice him, as their full attention was fixed on the pretty blond woman outside in the afternoon sun. Lara was parading up and down in front of the open windows, and had drawn the attention of every man in the bar.

“Never seen her before,” Timber commented, unaware that Colin was at his elbow.

Colin estimated Timber was a good six-feet-seven-inches tall. His deep voice seemed to come up from the soles of his boots. His arms were the size of Colin's upper thighs, but they were badly scarred, testament to the battles he'd fought with salties.

“Wonder why she's hanging around outside?” Timber queried.

Colin was about to butt in when one of the other men spoke up.

“Maybe she's looking for a bloke,” Wally suggested. “I might go out and see if she wants a drink.”

Feeling protective of Lara, Colin opened his mouth to speak, but Timber spoke first.

“Are you kidding, Wally?” he sneered. “You smell worse than the carcass of a dead barra.”

“I had a bath a few days ago,” Wally said, sniffing under one armpit, exposed by an old singlet. “I can't smell anything,” he insisted indignantly.

“Pigs can't smell their stink, Wally,” the man known as Dazza said and laughed like child.

“Who are you calling a pig, Dazza?” Wally erupted angrily. “I bet you haven't seen the inside of a bath tub since your momma could bounce you on her knee.”

“You leave my momma out of this,” Dazza growled, puffing his chest out.

Colin could see they were about to start brawling so he had to act quickly. He went to tap Timber on the shoulder, but decided it might not be a good idea. He looked like a man who reacted first and asked questions later, so he was likely to get knocked into next week. Instead he spoke up in what he hoped was a conciliatory manner. “G'day, gentlemen.”

The three men turned to look at him with steely expressions that gave nothing away.

“I'm looking for a croc hunter to come out to Shady Camp to rid the town of a few crocs. Would any of you be interested?”

After an uncomfortable pause, where Colin seriously thought about retreating, Timber spoke.

“Who's asking?” he growled, looking Colin over from head to foot.

“I'm Colin Jeffries.” He took a swig of his beer but it didn't settle the feeling of impending doom in his stomach. At a shade over six feet, with broad shoulders, it wasn't often he felt small standing beside another man. “I run the store in Shady Camp.”

“You run the store ... and you can't live with a few crocs?” Timber scoffed.

“I can, and I have for ten years. I'm here on behalf of someone who can't.”

“Who's that?”

“The town's new school teacher.” He was about to point Lara out, as she'd instructed, but the men didn't give him the chance.

“We wouldn't waste our time with fresh water crocs,” Wally suggested. “Only the big salties are worth hunting for their skins and meat.”

“You'd best be on your way,” Timber suggested to Colin. His menacing tone left him in little doubt that no further discussion would be tolerated. The three men turned their backs, forming an impenetrable wall, and focused their attention on Lara again.

Lara could see by Colin's body language that he'd failed in his mission to secure a croc hunter. She couldn't understand why he hadn't pointed her out to the men.

“I'm sorry I didn't have any luck, Lara,” he said as soon as he joined her outside. “The men I spoke to only hunt big salties. They sell their skins and meat, so they consider the fresh water crocs too small and a waste of time.”

Lara was flabbergasted. “Did you tell them that I saved Margie's dog from the jaws of a crocodile?”

“I didn't get the chance.”

“Did you tell them the crocs steal Joyce Castle's chickens?”

Colin shook his head. “They wouldn't be interested in the plight of chickens.”

“What about the children in town? Did you tell them it's only a matter of time before one of your children is attacked? I'm surprised it hasn't happened already. Monty says Aboriginal children have been taken.”

Colin refrained from telling her the hunters wouldn't be worried about Aboriginal children, either. It wasn't the time to give her a lesson on the politics between the whites and the aborigines.

“These men only care about making a living, Lara. And they're too big and mean to argue with. We should go.”

“You should have told them about the monster croc that scared the life out of me a few days ago,” Lara said in frustration.

“They won't believe a monster crocodile visited you at the rectory, Lara. They'd ridicule us if you mentioned something like that.”

The croc hunters were watching the interaction between Lara and Colin with intrigue.

“Could she be the teacher the shopkeeper was talking about?” Wally asked, regretting how hastily he'd reacted to Colin's request.

“Nah,” Timber said. “She doesn't look anything like the teacher's I had as a kid. Let's get a closer look.” They took their pints of beer to the open windows and leant over the windowsills.

“You're a lucky bastard if Blondie is yer missus?” Wally called to Colin.

“Is he referring to me?” Lara muttered, taken aback at being referred to as ‘blondie'.

Colin suspected they were in for trouble and shuffled uncomfortably. “Ignore him, Lara. We should get out of here,” he whispered.

“And miss this opportunity. No way,” Lara said stubbornly as she sensed all was not yet lost. She decided to take the opportunity to appeal to the croc hunter's manly pride. This approach usually worked with very rugged men.

“This lady is the teacher I mentioned,” Colin felt obliged to explain.

“Yer should've said so,” Wally said, grinning like a lusty schoolboy. “I wouldn't mind being in your class, Blondie,” he added, inciting cheers and whistles from the men in the bar, much to his enjoyment.

Lara stepped closer to the open window. Wearing a stern ‘school ma'am' expression, she leveled her blue eyes on Wally as if he was a naughty student. Silence fell in the bar. “My name is Miss Lara Penrose,” she said pointedly. “Not blondie.”

Wally was struck speechless while the men around him laughed.

“I want to hire a crocodile hunter to make Shady Camp safer for children and pets,” Lara said. She looked at Wally again and treated him to one of her most disarming smiles. “Are any of you men up to the task?” she challenged sweetly, casting her eye over the three crocodile hunters. She then looked at Wally as if he was the bravest man in the world, and at that moment he might've done anything she asked.

“We hunt the biggest and meanest creatures in the Territory; saltwater crocs, buffalo, and wild boar. Little fresh water crocs are a waste of time,” Timber reiterated firmly, which brought Wally back to reality.

“It shouldn't matter what you are hunting if you are being paid,” Lara said, losing hope but not yet willing to concede defeat. “The crocs in Shady Camp are going after the dogs and school children, so the town is not safe. I'm sure some of you have children,” she added, although the thought was quite unsettling. “So you'd understand.”

“The money in croc hunting is in selling the skins and meat, love,” Dazza said.

“Miss Penrose,” Lara corrected.

Dazza flushed, glancing at his mates self-consciously. “Fresh water crocs are too small and worthless, Miss Penrose. They're not worth skinning.”

“Not all the crocs in Shady Camp are what you'd consider small,” Lara claimed.

Sensing what she was about to do, Colin leant towards her. “Don't do it, Lara. Don't mention...”

“I have to, Colin,” Lara said in hushed tones. “Or nobody will come and help. Monty said crocodiles are territorial and I can't live with the threat of that monster coming back to hunt in his territory.”

“Why don't you shoot the crocs yourselves,” another man suggested with a hint of amusement. He was intrigued by the idea of someone very pretty and petite toting a gun to shoot crocs.

“We might do that,” Colin said, hoping to drag Lara away before she made a fool of both of them.

“Do you want some shooting lessons, Miss Penrose?” Wally asked provocatively.

“Would a sixteen-foot crocodile be considered too small for you to hunt?” Lara asked. She heard Colin groan in despair beside her, but she ignored him.

“Fresh water crocs don't grow that big,” Timber stated.