When it used to Rain

In the days of long ago, you knew you could depend on the rain to fall. The rain came on time to help those in need, like the farmers. Floods kept the rivers clean, and flowing. The grass green to feed the animals. The trees were all different shades of green to show their good health. People didn't moan everyday about the weather. The wind didn't blow the fertile top soil away into the ocean to leave the ground barren, a waste land. You only had to pee at the head waters of some of the rivers and they did flood for days. The storm didn't need to fall in your area to flood the creeks. The creeks would be running a banker but the sun shone in the bright blue sky above your head.

One such week we had rain bucketing down. No sing of stopping. The rivers were rising fast making life impossible for people to move through the area. Food supplies were low. The trains were the only available transport moving to bring in fresh supplies, if you had someone able to send them in for you. Or you had to catch the rail-motor to the closest town which was fifty miles away. Going on the early morning rail-motor, the returning home late at night lugging your bags of food. You never knew when the water would subside enough for the cars to cross all the low crossings. You had to have an extra supple to carry you over in time of flood. Wait for the floods to leave. Hope no one became ill when the rivers were impassable..

Sometimes, you were prepared for the floods. The storm came without much warning. Sneak in during the cover of darkness soaking the ground, making it mud by morning. On one such occasion, the rain fell heavy during the night. The river rose quickly causing trouble for the men working on the bridge. The wooden pile of the train were being replaced with cement ones. All the workers were pulled from their beds to rescue the tools stopping them being washed away. All tools had to be moved to higher ground.

As the men struggled in the rain, mud and water, to move them, the roar of a wall of water rushed down the river to reach the ocean. The wheels of the cement mixers bogged in the mud making the job ten times longer to move them to the shed.

Everything was wet.

No sign of the rain stopping.

We were surrounded by flood water.

Food was becoming very scarce.

People were trying to make their food go further. Not waste any.

Opening tins of food because no fresh stuff was available.

No sign of when the men would be able to leave work to go to town for fresh supplies.

Our tent was wet through. Our clothes smelt musty. Felt damp.

Washing to hang in the sun wasn't an option. Small loads of clothes were boiled on the wood stove in a kerosene tine. They were hung over the backs of chairs near the fire recess to dry. Some were hung over a wire stretched across the recess. We had to duck around the clothes while cooking, and working. Had to watch we weren't strangled by the hanging clothes.

The tent consisted of tarp hung over poles buried in the ground. There were smaller poles around the side to make the walls to keep out most of the weather. Protect our clothes, bedding, and kitchen wares. Wooden pallets were placed together to for a floor to keep us from the wet ground. Corrugated iron was used to build the recess to house the wood stove. There was a chimney to take away the smoke.

During the wet weather a metal tub was used to bathe in front of the fire. We couldn't use the outside shower because it consisted of walls of corrugated iron. Pallet floor. No roof. A bucket hung from a piece of timber at the top. When filled with water, you pulled a rope to let the water fall when needed. Summers were great to shower beneath the starry sky. Winter, the showers were very quick before we turned blue from the cold once the warm water ran off our body. Our teeth chattered.

The latest bout of wet weather, the kerosene to run our fridges, was running out. The wick was turned down lower to save on kerosene.

Tins of meat were opened. The meat was left in the tin when the men had to rush back to work to watch the flood didn't wash away the railway bridge. The open tin was left, forgotten, on the table. The owner of the meat ate it for his evening meal. He thought it was safe to eat because the weather wasn't hot. Jack Clarke decided to eat the bully beef for his next meal.

His mistake.

In the early hours of the morning Jack began moaning from pain in his stomach. He began vomiting. Gastric started. His body weakened. Jack was wet from rushing out of his tent to reach the outhouse. His legs grew weak.

The man sharing his tent, Fred Williams, didn't have much sleep from Jack moaning. Fred crawled from his bed to check on Jack. He placed his hand on Jack's forehead. He was running a fever. Perspiration wet his forehead.

Putting on his raincoat, Fred headed out to find the boss to tell him about Jack. He found the boss standing on the bridge watching the rubbish floating in the water to make sure it didn't build up around the pylons . If the bridge went the mail railway line out of the town would be cut.

Fred explained Jack's condition to Colin Speil. Colin followed Fred to the tent to see Jack. He couldn’t afford to have any of his men being sick. There wasn't any way to transport them to the hospital. But he didn't have an option. He had to go to the railway station to ring the hospital.

Fred explained about Jack and the problem they faced in getting him to the hospital.

“What do you think may be wrong with Jack,” Colin asked the doctor.

“From what you have explained I'd have a guess at the problem being his appendix. You need to bring him in to the hospital.”

“I'll see what we can do. We are flooded. All roads are cut.” Colin left the station to go talk to the men about a way to have Jack shipped out.

The men, who were watching the rising water, waited to hear the doctors report. Other men were at the hut trying to keep Jack comfortable. Some sponged his face to lower the temperature.. Jack was drenched from perspiration, and rain.

He was becoming sicker by the passing of time.

His moaning grew louder.

His stomach was empty he was dry reaching.

The men in the tent listen to Colin to hear what had to be done.

Colin raked his fingers through his wet hair. He hedged while trying to find a way to tell them what had to be found to have Jack transported.

The stress, and the wet weather, were starting to frazzle his nerves. He had to find a way to move Jack to hospital but nothing came to the fore.

“Well. What did the doctor suggest,” asked one of the men.

“There isn't much they can do,” replied Colin, hunching his shoulders. “Most of the rivers, creeks and gullies, are flooded between here, and the hospital. The ambulance can't come out any further than Smith's Crossing.”

“What did they suggest we do to make Jack feel better,” asked another.

“Told me to ship him out. He has to go to the hospital. The doctor believes the problem may be his appendix. He'll need to be operated on.” Colin sighed. “I have no idea how we are going to get Jack there.”

“Maybe Bert can help. Why don't you ask him if there is a way to get Jack out of here,” said another man. “He has local knowledge.”

Colin went down to the bridge to find Bert.

“Do you happen to know a way for us to get away from here. Jack has to be taken to the hospital. The ambulance can only come to Smith's Crossing. Is it possible to make it that far.”

“With a little help we should be able to reach there. Depending on the roads. And the level of the water. My car is parked on the other side of the creek.”

“How long do you think the trip will take. I have to let the hospital know to send the ambulance out.”

“Depends how many times we have to stop to clear the road. And how many gullies are passable.”

Bert went home to tell his wife, Elsa.

“We have to take Jack to the hospital.”

“Who is taking him. How can anyone make here,” she asked.

“I'm taking him.” Elsa wasn't pleased. She knew they were headed on a fools mission.

“We'll never make out of here. How far do we have to go?”

“The ambulance will be waiting at Smith's Crossing.”

A few clothes were shoved in a bag. Together, Bert, Elsa and Ruth, made they way to the tent. Jack had been bundled up for travelling. Everyone loaded on to the four man hand pumper with a flattop behind to go across the bridge. While the men carried Jack from the bridge down to the road, Bert walked up to the farm to collect his car from where he'd stored it, before the water rose cutting the road.

The men loaded Jack into the back seat of the car. One of the men travelled in the car to help with any problems they might face. The rest of the men followed on the pumper to make sure there was any trouble. They were only allowed to travel their section of the line. The next gang came out to watch along the next section.

The dirt road up the first hill was slippery. The clay showing. Most of the surface gravel had been washed away. Bert struggled to keep the car from slewing off the road, and dodge washouts. Once over the hill the road was full of ruts from the flowing flood water. Bert drove with caution through the water which backed up on sections of the road.

The next tough section was a nightmare. The cement causeway had eighteen inches of water flowing over. On the other side was a steep hill with red soil. Once out of the water you had to climb the hill.

Bert stopped short of the water. He stepped from the car to walk through the water checking the crossing for a washout, rocks, or any other stuff to hamper the way, to cause damage. He walked up the hill stamping his feet to find where the ground was soft, or sound.

The workmen arrived on the pumper. They pulled off of the line to sit on the siding out of the way of an approaching train. They slid their way down the steep embankment to reach the road.

There were a few minutes discussion of the best way to approach the crossing. How to reach the top of the hill. A couple of workmen searched for rocks, and lengths of wood, to place behind the wheels of the car to stop it slipping back down the hill into the water. They made their way to the other side to wait part way up the rise ready with the chocks. The water had to be traversed at a slow rate so the water didn't wet the spark plugs, and electrical wires.

On reaching the edge of the water, Bert planted his foot on the accelerator to get some speed to reach as far as possible before the wheels began to spin. The men were ready each side of the car to place the chocks. Bert had to hold tight to the steering wheel to keep control of the car to stop it swinging in different directions.

Some of the men tried to stop the car skidding backward until the chocks were in place. Others pushed to move the car a short distance then chocked once again. After many stops, and struggling, the car finally made the rise. The men were covered in mud.. They returned to their home while the car continued on its journey. On passing the small town, they were on their own.

Elsa, and Ruth, had been made to step from the car at the crossing, to walk through the water, to then make their way to the top of the hill. They weren't allowed to stay in the car while the men battled to get the car up the hill. Bert didn't want them in the car in the event there was an accident while fighting against nature. No one was hurt in the struggle to win.

Everyone piled into the car to continue on the journey. Same Conway sat in the back seat with the patient. The rest of the workmen took the pumper back to Berajondo to wait for news. The next gang watch the progress until the car passed Rosedale. The road snaked away from the rail line so they couldn't watch the progress. A message was sent through to Waltagan to watch for the car to pass the line crossing.

Bottle Creek, and some other gullies, were flowing across the road. Bert checked each crossing before driving the car through, to make sure there wasn't any danger. During the drive there were showers. Rubbish had to be removed from the road.

Most of the trip went well. The big worry was Smith's Crossing. It was a spooky place in the sunny weather but more frightening in the dark. A place where a criminal, or someone wishing a good place for murder, and hide the body. The scrub was right up close to the side of the road.

Everyone was of the opinion the ambulance would be there waiting on the other side with a boat to transport Jack across the large body of flowing, brown water. On reaching the bottom of the hill, there was only a few feet of space between the stationary car, and the savage body of brown flood water. There wasn't any sign of the ambulance men, or anyone with a boat to help Jack across the water to be taken to the hospital.

After half an hour wait, two ambulance men walked down the small hill on the other side of the river, then over the small wooden bridge over a gully full of back water. The water lapping beneath the decking. They made their way to the edge of the water.

Bert yelled to them.

They yelled back.

No one understood what the other one said.

Bert started to make his way through the water to go to the other side. He kept to the top side of the causeway so he wouldn't be swept off the edge without any hope of being saved. He watched there were no logs, branches, or rubbish, floating down with the water. Bert reached dry ground. After much discussion, Bert was on his way back through the water to reach his car.

“What are they going to do,” Elsa asked Bert, worry etched her face. She watched the ambulance men shaking their head. “You're not going to try to cross, that. Tell me you're not,” she raised her voice. They'd all be drowned. The car washed down the with the river of water. She didn't see them making the trip, alive.

“That's the only way to go. There's no other help coming.” Bert took the key out of the ignition. He went to the boot to pull out a thick piece of tarp. The workmen used it to sit under to have their lunch. Today, it was being used to protect the engine. A couple of spanners were collected from the tool box. Opening the bonnet, he began working to remove the fan-belt, so it wouldn't churn up the water to wet the electrical parts, or the spark plugs, or any other parts which would stall the engine. All parts covered with old oil rags for as long as possible. The piece of tarp was placed over the front of the car to keep out more water. It was tied in place. The driver's side headlight was left out to show where to steer. Sam sat on the mudguard as guide. The ambulance men stood either side of the width of the causeway to show where it started, and ended.

Jack was propped up against the car door. There was packing to hold him in place. Water was sure to enter the car. Everyone praying nothing went wrong in the middle because no one was likely to survive. Most of them didn't swim.

Bert started the engine. He edged the front of the car into the water. On the first little bridge, the guide posts showed the edge. The water began to seep into the interior. Bert had to struggle to keep the car moving straight. The car began to edge sideways.

“Open your bloody door to let the water out,” yelled Bert.

Elsa opened her door. The car settled on a straight path. The water was deeper on the cement section but not rushing so fast. The water toughed the bottom of the steering wheel. Six feet from from making their way to safety. The engine spluttered. Died.

“Get out of the bloody car to push,” Bert yelled, while he forced his door open to be able to get out to push, and steer the car out of the water.

Sam jumped off the mudguard to moved to the back of the car.

Both ambulance men plunged into the water to help push.

They won.

The car was pushed up the slight rise to safety.

Elsa collapsed on the seat in the car. Her shaking legs gave away.

Ruth hung on tight to the back of the front seat to stop being washed out the car with the flood water.

The ambulance men checked out Jack. Jack unaware of what had just happened. He was transferred to the ambulance to go to the hospital.

“You aren't going back across the water,” asked one ambulance man.

“No,” replied Bert. “Once I have the engine dried out, and going, we will continue on to Bundaberg.”

“Did you want us to send out a mechanic?”

“No. We'll be fine,” replied Bert, going to the boot for his tools.

When they arrived at their destination, put on dry clothes, Bert rang the hospital to find out news on Jack. He was told Jack was feeling a little better. Jack was suffering from food poisoning. He'd have to stay in hospital.

The return trip home was a lot safer. The journey was made by rail motor. Sunshine shone, once again.