The raft

From Griffith REVIEW Edition 26: Stories for Today
© Copyright Griffith University & the author.

Written by Edwina Shaw

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Edwina Shaw's biography and other articles by this writer

School was finished for the year, and only two days into the holidays we had the makings of a raft. Tin drums rolled like thunder down the street as we chased after them. They sounded like giants laughing, so happy they could burst. Like us. Summer sun scorched the back of our T-shirts and we all had sweat and dirt necklaces and black creases in our elbows as we tumbled the drums the rest of the way back to the cubby.

Weeks earlier we'd found a huge old door at the dump and balanced it on our heads all the way home. We tried floating it by itself but ended up scrambling in mud up to our shorts trying to save the door from getting sucked under. Jacko said, ‘I told ya so,' but I swear it was his idea in the first place. He was in grade nine then and already the coolest kid around. He had a leather jacket his Dad gave him that made him look like he could ride a Harley or something. He was the leader of our gang. I was the next boss, then Russ – my mate from down the road – then Douggie and his friend Steve. The Oxley Creek Boys.

It was harder than we thought to put the drums and door together in a way that worked. The ropes kept slipping and we didn't want to use nails in case it leaked. We smoked half a pack of ciggies trying to figure it out. Smoking helps you think straighter – everyone knows that. It was my idea to flog some wire from the fence at the horse paddock down the road to tie the barrels on. In the end it looked great, especially after we scabbed some paint from the shed and wrote ‘Thrill Seekers' on the top in red.

It took all five of us to drag the raft over the mud to the water's edge. Half the kids in the neighbourhood had turned up to watch the launch. Beck, Russ's little sister, stood on the bank with the others, sniffling because she wanted to come too; but Jacko wouldn't let her. She was real cute in those days, her red hair in piggy-tails and all those freckles. Reckon I had a bit of a crush on her even then. But I wouldn't have said anything to Jacko to save my life. He hated girls. Funny how things turn out.

As we hauled the raft down to the muddy bank I felt like I was some sort of hero, or one of those native guys in Tarzan movies who went down the Amazon. We all held our breath and I said a silent prayer as we slid the raft into the water. It floated! We danced like clowns on the bank and I tackled Jacko into the mud just for the hell of it.

‘Unreal!' I yelled. ‘Let's go.'

‘Hang on, hang on,' said Jacko running back to the cubby, coming back waving a dark-brown bottle in the air. ‘Can't set off without christening the thing properly. It'd be bad luck. I've been saving this for something special – pinched it from the cupboard.'

He was holding a bottle of rum with a polar bear on the label, but when the sun shone through the glass you could tell there wasn't much left, maybe a third.

‘Here we go then,' he said, tapping it on the side of the raft near the writing, but the bottle didn't smash like it was supposed to.

‘Use your muscles,' said Douggie. ‘Go on, break it!'

‘What, and waste all this great booze?' Jacko said as he sat back up and unscrewed the cap, taking a big swig. Then he passed it to me.

It tasted pretty bad and burned like acid in my guts, but then I got that feeling that's all sort of golden. I love that feeling. I took another sip and let the gold spread all over my body. ‘Great stuff,' I said and passed the bottle to Russ. We shared it down the line till it was all gone. We laughed and showed off, acting like the toughest kids ever.

Jacko smashed the empty bottle on the raft and chucked the end into the creek, yelling, ‘Get on!' He bum-slid onto the raft and sat at the front, the captain's position.

Warm with rum and sunshine we clambered aboard, sitting so deep in the water my undies were soaked. Russ and I were crammed next to each other behind Jacko, with Douggie and Steve behind us, their arses hanging off the back.

Russ and I heaved the oars we'd made from orange crates and broomsticks into the water, dragging them backwards, feeling the pull of the creek. Our arms stung with the effort. But once we'd turned towards the dump it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Soon we were fairly racing along down the middle of the creek towards the Pamphlet Bridge and the river.

‘Yee-hah!' I called out, like in one of those old cowboy movies.

‘Cool!' yelled Douggie. ‘I wonder if this is how the explorers did it? Like us, just them and the boat and maybe wild Aborigines on the bank throwing spears.' He was like that in those days, always inventing crazy games.

‘Unreal,' said Steve.

We all grinned like monkeys and laughed out loud. This was our best creek adventure ever, beat mud-walking any day. We were right in the middle, just us fellas, no Dad, no dinghy. Just us, on the raft we made with our own hands.

We were going pretty fast, too. Felt like I was a champion Olympic rower. It was so easy, the mangroves slipping by. When we rushed under the sewerage pipe down past Russ's place, the shade was only a second of coolness. In my head I saw myself on a podium, bending down for one of those gold medals.

‘Can I have a turn at rowing?' begged Douggie from behind.

‘No way,' I said. ‘It'd be too hard for a kid like you.'

‘Would not! Jacko, tell Brian to let me have a go.'

To my surprise Jacko said, ‘Okay mate.' He must've been in a real good mood. ‘Hand it over.'

‘He won't be able to do it.'

‘Just give the kid the oar. Give Steve a turn too, hey?'

So Douggie and Steve got their turn and even with them rowing we were flying along.

‘See,' said Douggie, rowing like a madman. ‘See how fast we're making it go?'

In no time at all we rounded the bend of the creek, where rusty washing machines and piles of old tyres and car doors from the dump were sliding down the banks into the mangroves, sinking into the mud. The dump's a long way from our house. We'd never been that far down the creek before.

‘Maybe we'd better go back now,' I said. ‘Dad always says not to go past the dump.'

‘You're such a girl,' said Jacko.

‘We don't have to go back if you don't want to,' I said, my face burning. ‘That's okay. We can go right out onto the river if you want.'

‘Yeah!' squealed Douggie and Steve from the back, their arms still turning like windmills. ‘We'll row – let's do it.'

‘I don't know if it's such a good idea,' said Russ sounding like a full-on wimp.

‘You wouldn't, would you, you big sook,' Jacko said. ‘I reckon it's a bloody good idea. It's a great raft. What's the problem?'

Russ shook his head a bit but didn't say anything.

Douggie and Steve shouted, ‘Yeah!' and rowed so fast their arms looked blurry.

Russ stared down at the water sloshing onto the raft but I didn't let him spoil my fun. We were used to him being sulky. Ever since his mum and dad split up he was moody. Most of the time he was all right but, sometimes, you know. Not like me. Even then I knew we had to put all that sissy shit behind us, be strong like men and just have a good time. Sure would've liked another swig of that rum. Russ should've been like Jacko. His dad beat the crap out of him all the time but I never heard him complain, or cry about it. If you're a boy you just don't, that's all there is to it.

The midday sun was beating down hard on my hair like a fire beanie and my stomach was starting to feel like I'd swallowed creek water. ‘Maybe we should turn around. I'm not feeling too good.'

‘Whatever.' Jacko shrugged. The back of his neck was a brighter pink than Beck's favourite skirt.

‘Aw!' Douggie and Steve groaned. I turned around to glare at them and saw that they weren't even rowing anymore; the oars were resting on their laps and they were trailing their fingertips in the wash as we continued to speed towards the bridge.

‘Hey, give us back the oars you two – you're not even doing anything. We've got to go home now.'

‘No way.'

They picked up the oars and tried to back-paddle to turn us around. Water sprayed all over me, so I used my hand to send a sheet of water back at them. We splashed at each other till we were all soaked and laughing.

‘Is anyone rowing this bloody thing?' asked Jacko, like he was a grown-up bored with our games.

‘Yeah, we are,' said Russ, grabbing the oar from Steve. After a bit of a tussle I wrenched the other one back from Douggie. Then Russ and I tried to turn the raft.