“History is never written in stone. Even after countless ages, it will need to be re written as our knowledge is challenged."
A story of a discovery that re wrote history. Was it really true or the imagination going too far? An archaeologist follows up a find of bones and ends up with more than he imagines.
CHAPTER 1: A FEW BONES
The Hi Lux slowed on the highway as the gravel track loomed up in the strong high beam. "Looks like new tracks. Hope there's not too many down here." The driver changed down as he hit the first pot hole.
"Don't worry Gazo, it's a big ocean and there's lots of fish. After your effort two weeks ago, probably still be plenty left after tomorrow." Gary stuck his finger up in the air and gave a short laugh.
"You're on mate. A case of VB to who catches the most."
"To whom", came a voice from the seat in the back of the twin cab.
"Don't you blokes know any English?" The comments from Ben and Gary made further talk on this subject unwise, or he would be doing the looking for firewood.
Johnno had learnt the hard way. Not far down the bumpy track, it widened out and fingers of grassy areas poked out from clumps of paper bark trees that dotted the area. A tent appeared from one area but that was all. The boys drove to the far end and pulled up.
"Not as many as I thought," said Ben.
"All the more fish for us." Johnno just grunted.
The tent was tossed out and soon erected and a scout around with torches found some timber, none too dry but with the help of some kerosene, soon caught. The beer supply was soon down by a few can sand with talk of the many fish that had got away or shrunk as they were landed, sleeping bags became refuges from the cool night.
Next morning was overcast and breezy and Ben who had been first up and by necessity out finding a handy tree, was not optimistic about the weather. With breakfast over and Johnno forcibly talked out of having a shave, they sorted the tackle and headed down the sandy track behind the tent, towards the beach.
"No sign of the other people," ventured Gary as he cast a glance back up the camping area.
"Could be already out fishing." Ben gave a chuckle.
"Might be a bloke with his bird. Doubt if fishing has entered his mind."
"Why don't we bring along some chicks, then we could have the best of both worlds. Fishing in the day and company at night." Johnno had a grin from ear to ear. Gary gave him a bash with his tackle box.
"And what chick would you know let alone spend a night out here with you? Anyway, fishing is men's business. Would spoil if you had women along." Johnno didn't turn around.
"Guess who isn't getting any?" then ran a few steps to avoid any further assaults by the tackle box. But it was all good banter as the you this had been friends for years, and was soon forgotten as the beach came into view over a small sand hill. It was a long rugged beach disappearing in to the distance to the north and ending nearby in a rocky headland, the other way. Behind the beach a long row of small sand hills covered in low vegetation acted as a barrier, keeping back the bush on one side and the never ceasing waves on the other. Not a soul was to be seen.
After an hour, the beach rods had produced only three Flat head of medium size and one large butterfly fish who had strayed from the rock fore shore near by. It was tossed back, never really a suitable fish to eat. Ben and Gary decided to give the rocks a go, but Johnno who actually had a secret fear of waves sneaking up on you and slippery rocks in general, said he would give it a miss for a while and walk along the beach.
"Might find a bottle with a message, or something."
"Come and save me from this nasty pirate man. You'll know the island, it has a big palm tree." The falsetto voice of Ben made Gary crack up and even Johnno couldn't refrain from smiling.
"If it's stuffed full of money, your loss." Then he turned around and headed north.
The wind that had sprung up, picked up small particles of sand and stung his legs, and threatened to take his floppy hat at every puff. A big sea a few days before had scoured depressions in the sand and Johnno even noticed where some waves had groped at the sand hills then fell back. He walked on. Looking back his companions were becoming smaller as they stood on the rock shelf. He often felt the 'junior' member of this group and hoped that maybe he could boost his status by landing some decent fish. Some drift wood lay ashes a untered past, like some orphan or beggar in a foreign street, hoping for a handout or at least a second look. 'Wouldn't it be a laugh if he did find a bottle with a message. No, such things don't exist. Do they?'
A larger sand dune than the others appeared on his left and finding the eternal beach starting to lose it's appeal, he turned across the sand and started to climb over wax plants and salt resistant grass clumps, to the top. If the weather had been hotter, he would have sat in his shorts and soaked up a few rays, but today he was glad of his thick coat and beanie. The beach stretched on ward to the north. Somewhere up there was town, but ever so far up there.
The other way the cliffs that rose up to confront the sea were smaller at this distance. It took a couple of minutes to catch a movement and locate his friends. 'Pulling it in by the ton.' The thought flickered and then died. In front was the great ocean. There since the dawn of time almost, and yet no record of what sailed upon it remained, minutes after the happening. The heyday of coastal shipping from the big sailing vessels to the coastal steamers. Gone and you never knew it.
Johnno wondered about how many fish were out there, just beyond the breakers. Behind the sand hill was a small level patch, protected from the wind and he wondered what it would be like to be there, to be there with a girlfriend and only the sea gulls to see them. He'd never had a girl friend. Something caught his eye in the middle of that wishful spot. Something grey. He walked down and immediately it was so quiet out of the wind. The grey object was more white. When he tugged at it, there was resistance then it gave and he almost recoiled in horror when it became a bony finger and then a bony hand. He dropped it and took a step back, heart racing. 'Take a hold boy' he said to himself, 'it's long dead.' He picked it up and saw how bleached it was. Then kneeling down he started to scoop away the sand from the spot but nothing else appeared immediately. He widened the hole a little and felt a stick, only it was a bleached white stick of bone.
Apprehension took the place of exploration and it was time to leave and get back as soon as he could. At the top of the dune he turned as the thought struck him that he would need some proof. Removing his coat and t-shirt, he replaced the coat and went back to wrap the hand in his shirt. Suddenly this idyllic spot where he may have created life had become a place where life had been taken. Overhead the dark clouds gathered and he walked quickly along the beach front to where he would find comfort.