CHAPTER 5: A FEW BONES
David My field was informed that the tests on the bones were conclusive and when he protested that the coroner might take a dim view of such findings, all Jean could do was suggest an open verdict.
The public would have to make up their own minds why they were European. In the end, the police 'finalized' the matter as beyond their jurisdiction and the true origin was deliberately made vague by references to non indigenous ancestry. No items had been located at the site that were deemed significant. Some metal fragments were identified by a university academic as from a number of cultures probably traded for many years from Europe and ending up in the Pacific basin.
Ray's pieces were kept outside the inquest, as sufficient pieces had been found to satisfy the court. The helmet was never mentioned by the dig team so he never mentioned it. Too precious to be just stored in some forgotten cup board then turfed in a few years. It was Ray who broached the subject to Jean about the possibility of the artifacts being the result of many hundreds of year softrade and not direct transfer.
"I don't want to believe in a trade cycle. I feel it in my bones that these people were the real McCoy." She refilled his glass and sat down.
"I'm with you. It is a possibility though, and we need to keep that in mind. Still, I prefer your idea to them." She stretched out her hand and stroked his arm. He gently took hold of it and gave her fingers a small kiss. She inwardly glowed.
"Like to walk up to the top of the street and take in the city lights?"
"The view from here is quite fine." He did not move his eyes off hers.
"Is it just my old bones that hold your interest?"
"Care to find out?" The following Sunday they decided on a lazy yuppy day. Coffee and croissantson the outside tables of a small but obviously very popular cafe in Paddington, where everyone read newspapers larger than the tables they sat at or just and held hands under the table with someone else. Then a stroll through the pond areas of Centennial Park, nearby.
They sat near the edge of a large pond, where enthusiasts of all ages, sailed boats. The radio controlled model sailing skiffs were sent in all directions and responded as if by magic, to the owner who stood on the bank with his little black box. It was a restful activity for some and feverish for others. One magnificent boat, about 60cmlong, heeled over as a small gust of wind came and too late the master found himself taking the right tact. It lay flat on the water and no amount of jiggling could upright it. Fore ward movement was laborious as the small engine tried to drag a lop sided keel and wet sails.
"Now what's he do?" asked Jean, staring out to the craft. "Suppose it will finally make it home to the owner," replied Ray.
"Otherwise he gets his feet wet. Still the water is not deep so either way it gets beached and emptied out." She stood up.
"Not much of a day for swimming. Come on," putting her hand down to him,
"I'm hungry." They started to walk away, when Jean realized that Ray had suddenly stopped and was looking at a Bunya Pine ahead.
"What do you see that I can't?" Jean squinted her eyes but nothing caught her attention.
"There is a way to prove it."
"What are you on about now?" she asked.
"Nothing. Can you get a couple of days off this week. We need to go back to the south coast. We missed it and it just struck me why."
"What." But he was pulling her gently along, so she didn't argue. Ray would tell her in his own time. 'So much for a care free Sunday,' she thought to herself. As it turned out, Jean had a work load over the top but agreed to take two days out at the end of the week. His infectious vibes spread to her and she had to admit to herself that now this thing had started, she would like to see some logical conclusion. He was stuck with a presentation on Wednesday, a sit turned out, so Thursday saw them streaking south even before the sun had cast a searching ray of light over the horizon.
Ray had relented a day after their outing in the park, and explained in a fashion, his thoughts. At first she just listened then realized he probably was right but had Buckley's chance of finding any item in all that sand.
In the small town that had not so long ago, became famous for it's notorious find, he purchased a couple of topographical maps and with some fish and chips, they sat at one of those beach side concrete tables and plotted a course of action. Never eat take away or anything for that matter next to the coast, was an axiom they soon learnt.
Soon the squawking of hundreds of silver gulls, forced them to eat and tidy up first. With no visible food, the birds soon dispersed and it was back to the map. To the south of the find was a rocky head land then predominantly cliff lines for some distance before any beach made it's presence. the other way, back toward town, was a long, long stretch of sand ending in a small headland.
It was at the base of this headland and just behind it, that a lake lay. Isolated and not very deep, it went by the name of Lever's Lake. It was here that Ray stabbed his finger down on the map.
"Here is where we dig."
"Why there? All up and down the coast are lakes and inlets. Even a swamp, by the look of it, just north of the lake." He shrugged his hands in a gesture that could mean anything.
"Got to start some where. My thoughts are that they were shipwrecked and swam or waded ashore. Could have been hit upon as soon as they reached the beach, but why not give them some luck." She looked out to sea for a minute then into his eyes.
"There are two options as I see it. One is they struggled ashore and were attacked, or they swam ashore and started walking. Whether it was one kilometer or one hundred kilometers , we don't know. Come to think of it, it wouldn't make any difference, because where we found their remains would be what they had."
"Unless they stashed it." She emptied the dregs of her coffee and looked at the car. Then a grin in her eye.
"Nothing to stash. If I swam ashore from a sinking boat, I would have minimum gear. They were all in loin cloths or naked, probably."
"You forgot about the breast plate bits and the helmet. One point for the History Department." She poked out her tongue at him.
"Smarty. So what does that mean?"
"It's obvious. They waded ashore with clothing and whatever, and may be buried some of it. Then started walking." They had now moved off in the car and heading south.
"Darling. Do you expect me to dig up half of the south coast beaches, because you have a supposition that some people just might have buried something. I dig up bones because I know they are there." She was silent for a moment.
"Anyway why the lake or the swamp?"
"Fresh water. That's where I would rest up and stay and recognize if I had to walk back later." She was about to give up against this endless supply of logical explanations when one more objection came to mind.
"Three thousand years ago. Right?" He nodded.
"Give or take."
"I'm generous. I bet three thousand years ago there was no lake or swamp. Coastlines change and rivers come and go. Wind. Rain. Whatever. Could have been just open savannah then."
"About here," was all he replied, and turned off the highway on to a fire trail.
"Hope my map reading is accurate."
"If it's like your Phoenician theory then we should end up in Melbourne." A huge bump sent unsecured items on the back seat, sprawling.
"Sorry. You might be correct about the lake, but like I said before, one has to start somewhere." The trail twisted and turned through low bushes and scrub, then some white banks is came into view and finally a small turning area behind a sand dune.
"Must be here, " uttered Ray as he switched off the motor and got out. With some talk on the condition of the track and the vegetation, they climbed up as the sound of surf rose to meet their ears and then they were abreast the dune and overlooking the beach. To the south it stretched and became hazy. Down that direction was where they had found their wanderers. They looked the other way and saw the rock headland was quite close. The small lake behind it, separated from the sea by a strip of sand, was just visible.
"Come on," yelled Ray. He was off before she could say anything. his enthusiasm was becoming one tracked. She stood her ground and yelled.
"Hey." He turned his head and seeing she had not moved, stopped and turned around.
"What's up?"
"Whatever it is you're looking for, I ain't going anywhere today. How about waiting for me."
"Sorry," and came back.
"Just got carried away. I can feel we are so close." Jean put a hand on his shoulder.
"Just as long as you stay close, dearest. Tome." He gave her a peck on the cheek and taking her hand, moved towards the head land. Shortly they were at the base. Some seaweed and an ice cream container lay on the sand just before a small shelf where they could start to climb up sandstone folds and into some hakia scrub. At the top the view was unfolding before their eyes. They found a small cleared area and sat looking out to sea.
"This is beautiful, Ray. Give me an apple. I need sustenance." He fished one out from the small day pack he had and tilted his head on to her shoulder. The very faint smell of perfume reached his nostrils. A high pitched shriek made them look up and a sea eagle swooped overhead and disappeared behind them. Jean stood up but could not see where it had gone to. Ray stretched his hands and stood beside her. Then their eyes met and their hands encompassed each other and a thousand sea eagles could have shrieked and they would not have heard them.
"Come on," she said stepping away and taking his hand.
"We came to look at a lake."
"What lake?" and smiled.
"OK." They walked to the back of the small headland and viewed the lake. It was not large but then again, no pond. Lots of grass sedges and small bushes with occasional small beaches. Some tea tree behind one beach. No obvious campsites from here, not even recent ones. Once down on the edge, they did find a campsite. Charred sticks and a small ring of rocks. Inside two rusty food cans.
"Sad. Why can't people take their rubbish with them, or at least bury it?" Jean was already picking up the debris as she spoke and kicking a hole in the sand with her heel. Ray looked at her actions and waved a finger at her.
"Helping your future friends, I see." No words but that condescending look over her sunglasses.
"I can see it all," said Ray.
"In a thousand years an archeologist will dig up this site and find your cans and say 'I told you so. Remains of a meal from a shipwrecked sailor.'"
"Don't laugh, frizzy features. That's exactly how it happens. Mind you, the bean cans would have long rusted away, but the beans are so tough, any spilt are sure to be still there." He bared his teeth and made a growling sound. Then with a swaggering approach, gently grabbed her and gave her a kiss. Flowers had bloomed and wilted before they started having a detailed look around the foreshores. As the sun started to drop to the western sky line, a disappointed couple, grimy with sand and the toils of scratching, decided to give it away.
"I was so sure we would find something. Still a most pleasant day," and smiled at her.
"Either the camp is down twenty feet below the sand by now or this is just not the spot." Jean picked up the small spade and her hat.
"I wanted it to be here but not to be. at least we tried." They gave a last look and started back to the car. Low black clouds were appearing on the horizon and the late afternoon had turned chilly. That night the wind started and by 10pm it was starting to rain. In the motel, it didn't matter if a gale was blowing. By morning it was a gale and sheets of rain falling like a silver veil, reducing visibility to a couple of hundred meters. The wind was coming in strong gusts and already leaves and small branches were being whipped along the roadway outside their window. There was no chance of going out today. Ray looked out the window and gave a sigh.
"Even if it stopped, that road in would be hopeless in our car." Jean stood next to him looking at the rain hitting the window of the room.
"There'll be another opportunity, Ray. This isn't the first storm in the last two thousand years. Nor the last." The gale lasted some three days but Ray and Jean had braved the road and headed home that day. They had lives to lead and jobs to do. All up and down the coast, tremendous seas had taken their toll on small boats and beaches and harbours. Then it all went away, and the clear skies returned, and these a went back to sleep. In New Zealand, a Maori village site had been discovered on the North Island by a building construction crew putting in a resort. Jean was asked if she wanted to help the Auckland University team. It appeared that this site could be several hundred years old, even older than the one at Gisborne where axes and part of a flaxen head dress had survived, wrapped in black mud.