Jack's Island by Norman Jorgensen Read Free Book Online Page B

cleared his throat.
    â€˜Children, I have some bad news for you all.’ He cleared his throat again and blinked several times. Something was seriously wrong. ‘Timothy Small, the boy you all know as Dafty, jumped into the sea from the ferry yesterday. We think he tried to swim back to the island. Unfortunately the ferry was too far offshore. There is no way he could have made it back.’
    No-one said a word. We couldn’t believe it. Dafty drowned? It couldn’t be. He must be mistaken. Not poor little harmless Dafty. I sat in my chair, stunned. My heart pounded in my ears. Nothing made sense. Time had suddenly stopped. Everything seemed blank. I heard someone behind me sniff and begin crying quietly and the buzz of a single blowfly against the window. My eyes filled with tears. Floods of tears. I tried wiping them away with my sleeve but there were too many. The tears kept coming and coming, streaming down my cheeks.
    â€˜No, he wasn’t trying to swim back.’ Banjo was the first to speak. He didn’t stand up like we were supposed to when talking in class. ‘It’s the song. My song. “You’ll never take me alive, said he”, as he jumped into the billabong.’
    Mr Palmer didn’t seem to know what to say. ‘Perhaps you are right, Paterson. The army is still out looking for his ... him. If any of you want to go out and help with the search then you are...’ Mr Palmer left the sentence unfinished and turned his back to us. A minute later I saw him take out a hanky and wipe his nose. That surprised me. I thought Palmer was as hard as nails.
    He dismissed us soon after. I ran outside without looking at anyone and kept running and running until I reached home. Mum had already heard the news and was waiting for me. I fell into her arms and she held me tight against her apron as I cried and shook and blubbed until I had no more tears left. Exhausted, I went into my room and lay face down on my bed.
    Late in the afternoon Mum woke me with a mug of hot milk mixed with some cooking chocolate she’d been saving, and then about an hour later she sent me down to the jetty.
    People had been there all day, watching the search boats come and go, each one unsuccessful. But now it was almost dark and everyone had left, except for the two figures standing at the end of the jetty, silhouetted against the sea. One was Banjo, and the other looked like Mr Palmer. It had to be Mr Palmer, the way he leaned heavily on his walking stick. What was he doing there with Banjo? Were they hoping for a miracle, peering out over the water at the white horses whipping through the darkening channel?
    â€˜Mr Palmer?’ I called as I got closer. ‘Banjo? Mum said would you stop in for a cup of tea? She said you both must be frozen.’
    â€˜Thank you, Jack, that is very kind,’ said Mr Palmer. ‘Come along, Andrew. We’ll come back in the morning.’ He took Banjo gently by the arm. But I saw Mr Palmer wince in pain as he took a step. He looked like he might have been crying but I sort of knew it wasn’t because of the pain in his leg.

Mr Paterson Objects to Mod
    Nothing seemed fun any more. Nothing at all. Days passed in a slow blur of schoolwork, though Mr Palmer spent more and more time away from school as his leg failed to heal. He’d come in one day and then have to have the next one off resting.
    The war news on the radio improved as the Allied armies advanced for the first time in ages, but none of us could get used to the tragic news of Dafty. It was as if it had been a terrible dream and we would all wake up and Dafty would be back waiting for us at the edge of the playground under the Moreton Bay Fig trees. But gradually we accepted the truth and, almost without noticing it, life returned to normal.
    On the last Friday before the school holidays I stopped at Banjo’s place to collect him on the way to school. I swung open the gate. On the low wall