CHAPTER 7: A FEW BONES
Overhead, some wispy clouds were trailing across the sky, the fore bear sofa change in the next day or two. Benny had taken several shots of the lake and it's attendants, and had moved off to the headland. Ray poked around the water's edge and wistfully stopped a few seconds at one spot. 'Wish you were here' , he thought to himself.
The gale had been vicious here as well. Sand had been moved about and waves had breached the bar at the end of the lake and opened it up. Water had obviously poured across the sand into the ocean until the level had dropped and the flow stemmed. It appeared to be some half a meter lower in height. At the far end he found the wind had knocked down some small trees and they had flattened scrub. One small tree had fallen in to the water and rather than crawl around it in the thick hakia, he waded into the lake around the fallen tree.
A yell from Benny, stopped him and he turned to just make out his friend waving something in the air. It sounded important, and then he recognized the beer can in his hand. Already his body was keying up to something important, although it was only a couple of seconds between the yell and his recognition. The let down was exasperating.
"One track mind," he said aloud and turned around to continue on around the tree. The distraction had put Ray's co-ordination just that slightly out of sync. and he tripped on a branch under the water, falling fore ward into the leaves and lake. Swearing, he stood up and as he went to lift his soggy boot and leg over the obstruction he froze. There was no snake in the water to bite him. There was some timber that wasn't a tree, because it had that unmistakable shape of man's hand. Too straight for nature. He ignored his dripping clothes and pulled away as much foliage as he could. Two pieces, well worn, but hard as steel, joined together with a wooden pin driven into each. Not much to see as they protruded upwards from the sandy bottom. Ray let out a satisfied' at last' and tried to scoop more sand from the bottom, but it was not easy under the water, even if it was only about 12 inches deep. He made his way quickly back around the shore to the beach and met Benny who was sitting down sorting some filters.
"Not so bad after all, Ray. Good value here. What's up with you?" Ray's face was flushed.
"Benny. I've got something. Under the water. Wood." Benny looked at him and could feet his elation.
"What do you recon it is?"
"I 'm sure it's what's left of a dwelling. Shelter or even a small hut. Can we get this water down lower?" and was striding across to look at the bar between the lake and the beach. In fact it wasn't that difficult. The sand was low and just held the lake back, or at least some of the lake. One of those quirks of nature where the waves had not scooped up a hill of sand to trap the lake but, had done the opposite.
The water had run out and stopped when the level had dropped. Half an hour of alternate digging by the two men had produced a small trench in the sand a few inches wide but some one and a half meters deep. The slope of the beach meant it didn't need to be more than twenty foot long before the level dropped. Finally the last connection was dug into the lake's edge and water started to move into the channel. Ray worked on deepening the entrance and soon the force of water took over the job. A surgeran down and across the beach. It didn't last long and soon stopped when the lake level was the same as the bottom of the trench entrance. But it had dropped the water by about a meter and a half.
"We need some more out," said Ray. "Can you go back to town and get a couple of spades?"
"You're a tyrant, Bryson. Still I know it means a lot and you are close to something. Dig on and I shall return. Cold beers as well?"
"Lots." The photographer gave him a look of disbelief.
"Wonderful." Then he was trudging across the sand to the car. Ray worked for the next hour, not wanting to go back up the lake to see what had happened. He rather knew that the water would be hopefully gone, but there would be the sand and without a decent spade, it was a waste of time. The trench slowly got a few inches deeper and as he stopped to take a rest and a swig of lake water, he heard Benny's yell and saw him approaching with two long handled spades and a bag.
"You didn't take long," said Ray as the spades were dumped and cans of VB appeared from the bag.
"The spades were not priority, friend. I realized we were down to our last six and feared the pub might shut or something." They sat on the sand and drunk. Ray needed the drink for both the work had been exhausting and the brackish water, a bit salty.
"By the way, sandwiches. I hope you eat tuna and lettuce."
It went down well. Then with renewed vigor they started digging and it now became easier as more sand was shoveled away in no time. Again the lake was breached and a tide of brownish water flower across the beach. They had dropped the water level between two and three meters and unable to face anymore, Ray led Benny around the lake shore to the fallen trees. It was easier walking for a large beach had been now exposed to walk on.
The fallen tree and the wooden pieces were now well above water mark, and although very sloppy, Ray started to dig with vigor. When the sun had started to dip towards the west, enough had been exposed to make Ray just stand there and let the tears flow down his cheeks. Even Benny was subdued.
Ray had hoped to find some remnant of a shelter under the wet sand. There was no shelter. No hut even. But there was something else. Preserved for three thousand years, the wood from Crete was riddled with rot but still in shape. A Phoenician sailing galley was slowly seeing daylight for the first time for many, many years. Ray was in some sort of jubilant shock. He had not even imagined this.
Winning a million dollars in the lottery would have had less effect on him. He wanted Jean to be here but it was not to be. Still he could hardly drag himself away to go back and find some signal so he could ring her. She cancelled her field trip mid stream and took the first plane back.
Ray and convinced Benny that the world could wait a few days more. Still he had all the photos he needed and it really was an excavation job that required more than he and his friend could provide. He could piece together an acceptable scenario in his mind. The galley landing, probably damaged in a storm, and the need to find a place to beach it and effect repairs. The surf beach would be exposed to swell but a creek running in under the headland would allow them to drag the craft out of harm’s way. Perhaps then there was more water coming out. maybe no lake, just a creek. It could have been a storm and they were washed ashore, to be swept into the creek. Who knows?
What happened then would be a guess also. Unable to repair the ship, they left her and walked along the beach, hoping to find natives to obtain food. Instead they found spears and clubs and outnumbered, valiantly ended their epic journey from the other side of the world on a windswept sand hill.
Ray wanted to make his mark in some small fashion, but it turned out a bigger mark than he ever imagined. Nothing is ever written in stone.
END