Frog Whistle Mine Read online

  Fred was increasingly having trouble with his hip. He kept finding excuses to stop and show them things. At one stage he paused and shone the torch up a side tunnel.

  ‘This is the shaft that gave Grandad the most gold,’ puffed Fred. ‘He thought he was onto his golden lead, but it soon petered out.’

  Nick shook his head. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. I don’t think he would ever find a lot of gold in the walls. If the gold got concentrated at all, it would be under these tracks, close to the floor of the cave. And he hasn’t dug there at all.’

  Tony looked at the floor. It was true—most of the floor was sand. Only in a couple of places was there exposed limestone. This had clearly been to keep a level surface for the tracks, but it certainly left a lot of unmined sand.

  Further along Fred stopped again. ‘Have a look at this.’ He rubbed his hand across the surface of the the wall. ‘Shine your lights here. See the patterns. Look there’s an S-shaped one. They’re burrows made in the sea floor.’

  Tony studied them with interest. They looked remarkably like ancient cave art. ‘Are there any fossils?’ he asked.

  ‘That is a fossil,’ said Nick.

  ‘I meant shells and bones.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Fred proudly. ‘Let’s have a look.’

  He led them slowly along the tunnel, examining the walls. Every so often there were speckled pebbles cemented in the sand. He looked at each in turn, but they were not what he was after. Then with a cry of discovery he reached up and scratched at a round grey object stuck in the roof.

  ‘I’ll show you it all when we get back to the lodge. C’mon, I want to get out of here.’

  From there on, the party walked in silence. Only then did Tony feel the spookiness of the place. Up until then he had been quite comfortable with being underground. Now, he had a feeling of being trapped. He wanted to get out, and soon. He suspected that the others felt the same way, because they were moving faster than at any other part of the journey.

  When they eventually burst through the gorse into the clearing, there were lots of sighs of relief and nervous laughter.

  Rose put it into words for all of them: ‘That last part was horrible.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Christine. ‘Did you feel it, Nick?’

  He nodded. ‘I have felt it before in mines and caves. When you have finished doing the interesting things, you start to think of where you are and it becomes scary.’

  Tony asked, ‘Where are the frogs you said would be singing?’

  ‘Whistling,’ corrected Fred. ‘And I don’t know what’s—’

  That’s when the ground started shaking.

  ‘Earthquake,’ said Fred.

  It was not much of one. They could still stand and the surrounding scrub barely swayed. Yet to Tony, who had never experienced an earthquake before, it was certainly big enough. It was not pleasant when what was meant to be solid ground was no longer solid.

  Nick was the first to break the silence when it had finished. ‘That is why the frogs were silent. They knew it was coming.’

  ‘How?’ asked Christine.

  ‘We do not know. But it has been observed many, many times. Lots of creatures behave strangely before ’quakes. The Chinese have even successfully used changes in animal behaviour to predict them.’

  Tony thought about that as they walked back to the lodge. It could explain why he had felt uneasy in the last part of the mine—why they had all been silent. If other animals could sense earthquakes, then maybe humans could too. It was just humans didn’t know when they were doing it.

  The lodge was buzzing by the time they got back. Lofty was busy at the bar and Betty was doing the rounds as a nibbles waitress, chatting with the guests as she went.

  Again Nick paused at the door, scanning the room for Duggan, before relaxing and joining the group at a table.

  ‘That last part in the mine was real spooky,’ said Christine after they’d all got their drinks.

  ‘Ha,’ snorted Fred. ‘I told you, Christine, lots of people get spooked in there. It’s said my grandfather went mad towards the end. He kept seeing things, like ghosts and apparitions. He ended up being a bit of a legend around here. People blamed it on the mine. Lots of the locals still think that whole area’s a bad place.’ He nodded towards the bar. ‘You won’t get Lofty in there.’

  Christine asked, ‘What happened to your grandfather?’

  ‘He just disappeared. Some say he fell off Cathedral Rock. I think he went down one of the water ditches. His remains are probably around here somewhere, but they’ll never be found now.’

  Nick was interested. ‘Any other people have visions around here?’

  Fred laughed. ‘In Charleston? My word yes. All the time. It’s only to be expected. There were once thirty thousand people living in this district. Over a hundred pubs. Churches, schools, shops.’ He waved his hand towards the bar. ‘Look at the photos over there. It was a regular city. Yet go outside and you’ll see little of the old stuff. No wonder people keep seeing things. It’s not called a ghost town for nothing.’

  ‘There may be a more rational explanation,’ said Nick.

  ‘Ha! You scientists. You want an explanation for everything. Why don’t you just accept that there are some things that you can’t explain?’

  ‘And some people who don’t want explanations,’ added Christine.

  ‘Exactly! You need to just let some things be.’

  ‘You were going to show us a fossil,’ reminded Tony.

  ‘That’s right, I was,’ said Fred, pulling the object from his pocket. It was a roughly spherical, grey pebble.

  ‘Okay, Mr Geologist, what is it?’

  ‘A sandstone concretion,’ replied Nick, smugly.

  ‘All right then, what’s in it?’

  Nick picked it up. ‘Yes, there will be something in the middle. That is the nucleus. It is slightly flattened, so I think that the nucleus will also be a flat object.’ He turned and smiled at Fred. ‘Probably a mud crab. At a guess I would say it is Carcinus haastii.’

  ‘Arrh! You take all the fun out of things.’

  Nick laughed, pleased with himself. ‘I have studied the collection of them at the university.’

  Fred took the stone from him and rolled it in his palm until he was satisfied he had it right. Then he picked up the hammer he had brought from the shed and with a single hit split the rock neatly into two. Carefully he put the halves on the table for the others to see.

  ‘Oh, that’s fantastic,’ exclaimed Christine. Inside the rock was the perfect fossil of a crab. The dark ebony of its shell contrasted with the cloudy grey of the sandstone. The other half of the rock was a smooth inverted cast.

  ‘How was it formed?’ Christine asked.

  ‘I thought you were the one that didn’t like explanations?’ grinned Nick.

  ‘Just tell me.’

  Fred answered for him: ‘The poor crab died. Then passing waves rolled it back and forth on the muddy sea floor and it got wrapped in the stuff.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Nick. ‘It was formed within the sand by the deposition of calcium carbonate around a nucleus, which in this case was a crab.’

  Christine said: ‘I prefer Fred’s explanation. I can understand that.’

  ‘But it is wrong.’ Nick’s face was showing the first flushes of anger.

  Christine put her hand on his arm. ‘It’s all right Nick. I was only teasing.’

  Tony was looking at the fossil with interest. A plan was forming in his mind. ‘Do you find many of these in the mine?’

  ‘Lots. Not all of them have a fossil inside. Sometimes it’s just a small stone.’

  ‘Can I have this one?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘What do you want it for?’ asked Rose.

  ‘You’ll see,’ he said mysteriously. ‘It’ll be a surprise.’

  ‘Is it something for me?’

  ‘Maybe…’

  ‘Oh good.’

  ‘…and then
, maybe not.’

  Rose glared at him. ‘Are you always this mean?’

  Tony chuckled. ‘No. But I’m working on it.’

  Soon after that they left for bed.

  Tony was pleased he’d brought his torch to the common room, or he would never have found his way back to the caravan. As soon as he got into the scrub, all light from the lodge vanished. Once again he realised how isolated the caravan was.

  The clearing was alive with the sounds of frogs, however, and they were now whistling at full blast. It made the place sound like a tropical rainforest.

  He entered the caravan with caution, unsure of what new surprise might be inside. But it was just as he’d left it. He bolted the door, lit the lantern, stripped and crawled into bed. For a while he sat munching at a piece of pizza that Betty had given him. He started thinking about his day, and how things had changed since their arrival that afternoon. At that time he had thought he’d reached the most boring place on earth. Yet now, just a few hours later, his mind was so full of things to do, he doubted he’d fit them all in. Plus, for the first time ever, he had a place all to himself. And then there was his mum: he couldn’t remember when he’d last seen her so happy. ‘Yes,’ he said to himself, ‘I think Charleston is a darned good place.’

  He smiled to himself, turned out the lamp, curled up in a ball, and was soon fully asleep.

  Chapter 7

  The noise started in the early hours of the morning. At first it was just a scraping that was soft enough to leave Tony sleeping. Gradually it increased until the noise filled the room—a loud, rasping sound like a large, ancient instrument.

  Tony woke unsure of whether the sound was part of his dream or some other reality. Slowly he became aware of his surroundings and remembered where he was. The racket seemed to be coming from the floor. Something was trying to get in.

  He stretched back and grabbed the torch. The light was blinding, yet it did nothing to stop the gnawing. He slapped his hand against the wall by the bed.

  That stopped it.

  He lay in the welcome silence for a while, expecting the noise to return. When he was satisfied it wasn’t coming back, he turned off the torch and snuggled back into bed.

  That’s when it started again. This time it seemed louder, as if there was now some urgency. He slapped the wall. The gnawing hardly paused before continuing.

  ‘What the hell is it?’ he asked the darkness. The only gnawing animals he knew of in New Zealand were mice and rats. It sounded far too loud to be either of them. Perhaps Charleston had some other animal that gnawed. They had weka and he’d never heard of them before. So maybe they had beavers or capybaras or prairie dogs. He kept naming all the gnawing animals he could think of and even made up a few. Gradually his tiredness overcame his fear and he slipped back into sleep. Some time later the sound stopped and silence returned.

  He next awoke to the sound of a bird screeching outside the caravan. It was morning. He propped himself up in the bed and peered out the window. There was the bird, a weka, looking much like the picture in the lodge. It raised its head and screeched again. Another bird popped out of the scrub, slightly smaller than the first, closely followed by four small, black balls of fluff. There was a whole family of them.

  Tony watched, enchanted by the way they pecked and scraped at the ground and plants. Every so often, one of the chicks would peck at another that came too close. Then there would be a little chasey game for a while, until they got bored and returned to feeding.

  After a time, Tony rose and went looking for the second piece of pizza, left over from the night before. He thought he’d put it on the bench, but it wasn’t there anymore. Looking around he found the wrapping paper on the floor, with a large hole gnawed into it. This is what the animal had been after. He looked around the floor for the hole where the intruder had got in, eventually finding it near the door. It was a rat-sized hole leading into the cupboard under the sink.

  Slowly he pulled the cupboard door back. Nothing moved. Maybe it wasn’t in there anymore. He kept opening the door until it could go no further—still nothing. He peered around inside, and there it was, hiding in the corner—a nest made from wood scrapings and pieces of paper. As he watched, there was a rustling, showing the creature was within.

  Tony studied the nest for some time, trying to decide what to do. He didn’t want a rat in there. What would happen if it went looking for food and couldn’t find any? What would it do then? Tony had heard of people having their toes eaten by rats. Children died from shock after being bitten by rats. No, the thing had to go—but how?

  He looked around for a suitable weapon. The only possibility was a broken rod of wood that had once been a towel rail. He would have preferred it to be much longer. He also wished he wasn’t shaking so much: this was a job that required accuracy.

  He plunged the rod at the nest—and missed. All he got was the crust from the pizza. The rat gave a squeak and scampered out of the way. It ran around the cupboard a couple of times, before dashing past Tony, climbing up the side of the bed and diving under the duvet. Tony watched in horror as the hump moved around under the cover, seeking a suitable place to hide. Finally it found the warmth of where Tony had been sleeping and stopped.

  ‘Oh hell, what do I do now?’

  Tony’s first thought was to jump on the lump. But then the thought of squashed rat all over his bedclothes put him off. The only other possibility was to drive the rat outside and hope that it couldn’t find its way back.

  After opening the door he began to lift the cover. The rat simply burrowed deeper. Tony sat on the bed, forcing the animal to go the other way. When it was finally exposed, the rat looked up at the boy in surprise and then made a rush for the door. Tony scrambled forward on the bed to see where it went. The thing was scampering through the stubble towards the scrub. It was almost there, when a weka appeared from nowhere. Instantly, the head of the rat was in the bird’s mouth. There was a horrible crunch and the rat went limp. It was all over in less than a second. Tony cheered, causing the bird to look up and glare at him.

  The rat was placed on the ground. Then with a single flash of the weka’s foot it was shredded. Guts and organs oozed everywhere. The weka lifted its head and called out four times in victory. That was the signal for the rest of the family to come out so the feast could begin.

  Tony watched in awe. He’d never thought of rats being food for something like a weka. Yet, they obviously loved it. The main course was the gut, which the adults were eating like it was spaghetti. The chicks danced around grabbing the bits that fell off. Dessert was the brain and sex organs. Then followed the muscles. After a few minutes, there was nothing left except for the skeleton and skin, and even that was dragged into the bushes and hidden for a later meal. Tony was impressed. These birds sure had attitude. They were welcome around his place anytime—so long as they stayed outside, of course.

  Tony walked to the lodge, thinking about the rat and his investigation of the caravan. The only way the rat could have got in was through the door. But then, how had it got shut in the cupboard? The noise during the night was the rat gnawing its way out, not in. Once again he had the feeling that someone was messing with his life. In fact, he was sure of it. The only question left was: why?

  The kitchen was busy when Tony arrived. Betty and Angela were preparing food, Lofty was reading the newspaper, and Christine was vacuuming the lounge, singing quietly to herself. She gave Tony a little smile and a wave.

  ‘Plonk yourself down there,’ said Betty as he entered the kitchen. ‘There’s bacon, eggs, sausages, hash browns, and tomatoes in the warmer. Toast, jam and fruit juice on the table. Serve yourself.’

  Tony did, generously.

  ‘What’s on the agenda for today?’ asked Lofty from behind the paper.

  ‘I’m going to explore down by that bay, then we’ll see after that.’

  ‘Constant Bay. You’ll find Nick down there somewhere with his instruments.’

  �
��What does he do?’

  ‘Something about earthquakes. But you’ll have to ask him. I wasn’t really listening when he told me.’

  ‘Did you feel that earthquake last night?’ Tony asked.

  ‘Yeah. Four-point-three on the Richter scale, and centred near Murchison. At least that’s what it says here. Just a tiny thing. You’ll feel bigger than that if you stay here for long. Seems like you only have to fart around here and the earth moves.’

  ‘Lofty! Language!’ growled Betty.

  ‘Sorry all,’ Lofty replied, giving Tony a big wink.

  Tony smiled and continued eating. He was thinking about earthquakes. In a way they could be fun, so long as you were safe. They wouldn’t be fun if you were trapped inside a house or a mine or something.

  ‘Good morning, good morning. And how are you all this morning?’ Tony recognised the voice as Duggan’s before he looked up and saw the man’s smiling face at the servery. His arms were loaded with a plastic container full of vegetables.

  ‘Morning, Jamie,’ said Betty and Lofty in unison, like it was a morning ritual. Lofty got up to take the vegetables.

  ‘And how are you, laddie? How was your first night on your own in that caravan?’

  ‘Good, thank you,’ replied Tony. ‘Except for the rat.’

  Betty spun round. ‘A rat!’

  ‘Yeah.’ Tony told them the whole story, right through to the rat being eaten.

  ‘I’ve heard they eat rats,’ said Lofty when Tony had finished. ‘But I’ve never seen it.’

  ‘Och! Those damned things will eat anything. Take my word for it. They’re a pest.’

  ‘You leave them alone, Jamie. They’re a protected animal,’ said Betty.

  Duggan didn’t reply. But for a moment his mask slipped, and once again Tony saw something beneath it. Then the man saw Tony looking at him and the plastic smile returned.

  ‘You must come over and see my wee property sometime, Tony. Bring the sweet Rosie as well. I’ll give you both the guided tour.’

  Tony mumbled that he would.