they'll have a go at us.'
'Pull over to the side of the bridge, Ruffy,' Bruce instructed and
rolled down his window. 'I'll signal Hendry to pull in beside us. We'll
off-load into the space between the two trucks and start building the
corrugated iron shield there.' While
Hendry manoeuvred his truck alongside, Bruce forced himself to look down
on the carnage of the beach.
'Crocodiles,' he exclaimed with relief. The paunching racks still stood
as he had last seen them, but the reeking pile of human remains was
gone. The smell and the flies, however, still lingered.
'During the night,' agreed Ruffy as he surveyed the long slither marks
in the sand of the beach.
'Thank God for that.'
'Yeah, it wouldn't have made my boys too joyful having to clean up that
lot.'
'We'll send someone down to tear out those racks. I don't want to look
at them while we work.'
'No, they're not very pretty.' Ruffy ran his eyes over the two sets of
gallows.
Bruce climbed down into the space between the trucks.
'Hendry.'
'That's my name.' Wally leaned out of the window.
'Sorry to disappoint you, but the crocs have done the chore for you.'
'I can see. I'm not blind.'
'Very well then. On the assumption
that you are neither blind nor paralysed, how about getting your trucks
unloaded?'
'Big deal,' muttered Hendry, but he climbed down and began shouting at
the men under the canvas canopy.
'Get the lead out there, you lot. Start jumping about!'
'What were the thickest timbers you could find?' Bruce turned to Ruffy.
'Nine by threes, but we got plenty of them.'
'They'll do,' decided
Bruce. 'We can lash a dozen of them together for each of the main
supports.' Frowning with concentration, Bruce began the task of
organizing the repairs.
'Hendry, I want the timber stacked by sizes. Put the sheet-iron over
there.' He brushed the flies from his face.
'Ruffy, how many hammers have we got?'
'Ten, boss, and I found a couple of handsaws.'
'Good. What about nails and rope?'
'We got
plenty. I got a barrel of six4inch and,-' Preoccupied, Bruce did not
notice one of the coloured civilians leave the shelter of the trucks.
He walked a dozen paces towards the bridge and stopped. Then unhurriedly
he began to unbutton his trousers and Bruce looked up.
'What the hell are you doing?' he shouted and the man started guiltily.
He did not understand the English words, but Bruce's tone was
sufficiently clear.
