Ginger In Australia
Chapter 6
Ginger Flies North
Biggles wasted no time when Ginger told him everything he knew. "I'll get the Air Commodore to contact the authorities and let them know what's going on," he informed Ginger. "In the meantime, hire a plane and fly to this place, Yowah. Wait for me there. We'll come out as quickly as we can in the Halifax. Book into the local hotel and see what you can find out about the region. How's your ankle?" he asked as an afterthought.
Ginger admitted that he had not given it a thought since he had spotted von Stalhein. He could almost see Biggles' smile as "can't be as bad as all that, then" travelled down the wire. "We'll all come," continued Biggles. "I'd have a mutiny on my hands if I left anyone behind in London," he commented with a smile in his voice. "It hasn't stopped raining since you left!"
Ginger thought he heard a chorus of agreement in the background as Biggles signed off and the line went dead.
Ginger was relieved to get back to his normal line of work and leave the university precincts far behind. He made his farewells to Georgia with a barely disguised sense of release, although he appreciated her hospitality.
His parting with Vera was of a different nature. He had found her good company at dinner and at the races. In addition, the chase after von Stalhein had forged a sort of comradeship. It evoked a sense of separation that he had not known since he had left his native friends behind when he had returned from Rutoroa.1
"I've really enjoyed my time with you," he told her innocently as he prepared to drive his hired car to the airport to pick up the Auster that he had arranged to rent.
"Me too," returned Vera evenly. "But nothing lasts for ever. You have your job to do and a life thousands of miles away. I have my job and my family here."
Ginger hesitated, unsure what would be acceptable behaviour in the circumstances, and in the end did nothing. He murmured his goodbyes and left. As he drove away, he refrained from looking in the mirror, painfully reminded of another time and another parting that, while the emotion was different, had been no less final in its way2.
The Auster was waiting for him when he arrived at Essendon, having been flown in specially thanks to the co-operation of the State's authorities. With a wry smile, remembering Canton, Ginger filed his flight plan and, having done his pre-flight checks, started up and took off. Once aloft he started to feel much happier as he always did when he was in the air. After a long, but uneventful, if rather bumpy, flight, with two scheduled stops for refuelling, he eventually landed at the airstrip at Eulo, to the south-east of his final destination.
To his surprise, the Auster that Canton had flown up was parked outside the hangar. Ginger had a good look round before he got out of his own aircraft and walked across to the flight office, in fact little more than a shed, to make some discreet inquiries.
The occupant of the flight office proved friendly and helpful. Trying to make it sound conversational, Ginger asked about the other Auster. He did not think it would be particularly suspicious to show an interest in the same type of aircraft as he himself was piloting.
The answer he received gave him food for thought. It was not the first time that von Stalhein and Canton had been there. As they had on the occasion of their previous visits, they had hired a car and gone to Yowah. Ginger made similar enquiries and although there were no more cars for hire, managed to find some transport into town.
There was not a great choice of accommodation in Yowah. Following Biggles' advice, Ginger booked a room at the Commercial Hotel, whose name, together with the sign 'Cobb & Co', was blazoned across the façade of the cream and black building that occupied a corner situation on the junction of the two main thoroughfares. His room was simply furnished but adequate for his needs and had access to a covered balcony that ran the length of both sides of the building, overlooking the street. When he signed in, Ginger took the opportunity to have a look at the other guests, thinking that it would be just his luck if von Stalhein happened to be staying in the same hotel, but if he was, he was there under an assumed name for there was no 'E von Stalhein' in the register.
After a bath and a change of clothes, Ginger had a meal in the dining room and took his coffee to the lounge. It was deserted. He wondered how on earth he was going to follow Biggles' further instructions of finding out what he could about the area if there was no one to talk to. He drank his coffee slowly and was just thinking of going to bed, when a middle-aged man walked in and nodded pleasantly to him.
"G'day, Blue" he muttered, sinking into a chair.
His curiosity overwhelming him, Ginger asked the man why he had been addressed as 'Blue'. "You're the third person since I arrived in Australia to call me that," he added.
Enlightenment was not immediately forthcoming. "It's your hair," said the newcomer.
"Yes, what about it?" asked Ginger, unable to connect the appellation with the colour of his hair.
"It's red."
"Yes, I know," muttered Ginger exasperated. "So what?"
"All redheads are 'Blue'."
The penny dropped. "I see," returned Ginger slowly. "I didn't know."
"You fossicking?" asked the man.
Ginger looked perplexed, thinking he needed to learn another language.
"Fossicking?" he queried.
"Prospecting for opals," the man informed him briefly. "There are quite a few deposits round here, though a lot of it's just potch."
"Potch?" echoed Ginger, beginning to feel he was sounding like a parrot.
"The useless white stuff." The man looked at him askance. "You don't seem to know much," he observed.
"I'm new," explained Ginger. "I only arrived here today. I'm waiting for some friends. I hadn't intended to go ... fossicking?" he ventured.
The man looked at him as though he was clearly mad. "If you're not here for the opals," he told him, "I can't think what else there is to attract you to this neck of the woods." He drew out a pipe and proceeded to fill it with an evil-looking shag. "Unless you're looking for snakes."
"Snakes!" Ginger nearly jumped out of his chair. "Why would I be looking for snakes?" he asked, the pitch of his voice climbing. "I can't stand the things."
"They use the skins," his informant told him laconically, emitting a reek of foul-smelling blue smoke that made Ginger's eyes water and set him coughing, "for shoes and handbags."
Ginger looked at him aghast. The information that the place had snakes and people hunted them for their skins made a shiver run down his spine. Fervently he wished Biggles were there. He thought he had never missed him so much in his life.
"One piece of advice," the Australian told him, "seeing as you're so wet behind the ears; don't leave your car, and make sure you have matches and water with you at all times."
"Thank you," murmured Ginger, still in a daze about the snakes. "I'll remember that."
"You do that," said the Australian as he got up to leave. "The last bloke who forgot it is buried in the bush."
Ginger felt his mouth go dry. 'What had he got himself into?' he wondered.