WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON In 1973, after a two-year stint as a Nasho โ a year of which I served in Vietnam โ I first laid eyes on the tiny bronze relic that would wreak havoc on my life. I was back home in Cairns, working as a…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON Poised to step out of the tinnie as I was, I had a good view of the camp: a bunch of dripping children, the corrugated iron and bush pole humpies Iโd seen from the river, smoke drifting through from various campfires and a โfifties…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON I was young and naive in 1973, even though I’d been to war and seen things that will never leave my memory. Back then I didn’t understand the power of words and the power of being with like-minded companions, and the power of fire…
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๐ช๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ ๐ฅ๐๐ฉ๐๐ฅ ๐๐ฌ ๐๐ฅ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ข๐ก The pre-dawn was eerie and ghostly grey when I woke, but I had plans. I dressed and roused Owen from his bunk before heading topsides. Tom Baines was already up in the wheelhouse, sitting like a hermit with a yellow light burning, reading a…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON We cleared the river bar at the top of the tide, and powered south into stiff southerly trades. Timing my movements with the Naikaโs pitching, I set a couple of spoon lures on cord lines trailing from each corner of the stern, then worked…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON Cooktown in 1973 was a place of ruins, ghosts, wind, and the promise of adventure. Iโd been there once before, the previous decade, roaring up the Mulligan Highway with Dad at the wheel of the Valiant Safari. With Mum and my brother Dave we…
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They were searching for space, tired of being pushed around by governments and bosses, too bruised to have the stomach for taking orders. I understood. Even โgoodโ people, who went to work nine hours a day, five days a week for an envelope of cash were pissed off, and those…
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The wind blew all night, wailing and moaning in the boatโs rigging, and swinging the Naika around in the face of the tide. At times I heard Tom on deck, and the sound of ropes sliding through cleats as he adjusted our position on the mooring. When I did sleep…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON The killer was not alone. Two more men climbed from the Steber onto the Naikaโs deck. I recognised both from the gang who had bushwhacked Owen and me in a Cooktown park the night before. I was still kneeling, waiting to feel a bullet…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON Like waking from a nightmare, my memories of the following days are disjointed and confused. From the police jetty in Cairns, they escorted me under guard to the watch house, where I was examined by a doctor who took blood from my arm, peeled…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON My old man was a wheeling and dealing kind of man, who knew the inside of every pub in Far-north Queensland, and half the blokes propping up the bar. Yet, he could make one beer last an hour, and his mind was as quick…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON This prison caper, for a bloke who knows himself to be innocent, plucked from civilian life and thrown behind bars, was no picnic. My mood went from panic-stricken, then maudlin and white-hot rage on a minute-by-minute basis. Iโd scarcely slept anyhow, but at 0600…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON On the second day they sent me out to work on yard detail, which was interesting because at least it was varied. There were seven or eight of us in the gang and our first job was cutting the tops off 44-gallon drums with…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON That feeling of being less alone in the world didnโt last. When they marched me back towards my cell the dark cloud that incarceration brings settled on me once more. As we headed through the main doors into the MedSec wing one of the…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON That night was the hottest since my arrival at the prison. Lying on my cot, I sweated like a pig in an abattoir yard, while mosquitoes whined in my ear and pricked at my skin. The prison blankets offered protection from these vermin, but…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON When the jury had settled and the judge taken his seat, the bailiff read the charges. โPeter Andrew Livermore. The Crown alleges that on the tenth day of September, nineteen-seventy-three, you did wilfully and savagely murder Thomas Baines, the skipper of the Naika, which…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON That night as I lay in my cell, the Tong war dragon roamed the shadows and I felt its stinking breath on my cheek, alternating hot and cold, making me shiver and sweat in the sweltering night as if I was wracked with fever.…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON I was a young bloke in 1973 but I was learning fast about life. Iโd buried my old man, been to war, and had just settled into a job I enjoyed, with weekends to roam and fish and enjoy the wilds of North Queensland…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON In the holding cell I paced back and forwards, from wall to wall, interrupted only by the need to use the thunderbox, for my guts had turned to water and the calm of the previous night was just a memory. I felt dirty, as…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON In the Year of the Pig, first lunar year of the Guangxu era, twenty-eight-year-old Yeuen Liang hurried through the city of Kaiping on an urgent errand, his straw-sandalled feet scarcely making a whisper on the paved street. Despite his status as a Dai-lo, or…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON Liang left his bed in the early hours of the morning, then dressed and buckled on his knife belt. He wrapped a few handfuls of cooked rice and dried fish in some linen and placed it, along with a flask of cold tea, and…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON The abode of the Dragon Head was built on an earthen mound, on an island in the river marshes, green with verdant growth. The roof was many-tiered and rose to a towering summit. Inside, priceless vases and sculptures from the famous artists of ancient…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON December 1973, and storms were gathering on every front. Each afternoon thunderheads formed black columns over Mount Stuart, that towering Townsville landmark. With the clouds came sweating, sodding humidity that built to torturous levels, along with lightning forks and thunder. Every living creature craved…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON From then on, it seemed, the General Run officers went out of their way to make my life uncomfortable. I knew that the smooth but dishonest Superintendent was behind these changes โ punishing me for not cooperating with his dreams of getting rich. He…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON Chiz and his two mates prowled the exercise yard like tiger sharks, watching me, and the screws did the same. I was forced to make my preparations in secret, saying nothing even to Marty, my cell mate. The days went by like slow-trolled slugs,…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON For three days the rain scarcely let up; a torrential downpour that cleaned the prison grime from the very air, and filled my heart with a mixture of excitement and trembling fear. During the worst of the downpour, we did no outside work at…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON As a child I had roamed the banks of that creek. Dave and I had fished for barra and mangrove jack, skipped stones, made hiding places and raced sticks when the flow was strong enough to carry them. Weโd kissed girls in hidden groves,…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON As I write these words, decades after the events described, I am aware that some readers will find the next part of my story hard to believe, fantastical even. Old bushmen from the Territory and Gulf, however, will know that what seems incredible, is…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON Feeling momentarily safe from pursuit, or at least confident that no cop or screw could have trailed me through those hidden underground places, I slumped to the ground and rested. While a dingo or feral cat would have licked its wounds, I could only…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON In the Year of the Pig, first lunar year of the Guangxu era, twenty-eight-year-old Yeuen Liang stood at the foredeck of a two-masted zaw called the Kingfisher, while she threaded her way through the multitude of vessels on moorings out from the jetties and…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON The Kingfisher sailed down the broad waters of the Pearl River estuary under the stars and moon. At dawn she cleared the mouth, sailing through the vast space between Macao and Hong Kong, gliding past the many islands, squat and immovable like the bulldog…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON Haoyu was an unusual man, beloved of his father despite his faults, but there were things he could not do without. As he recovered from his addiction, he compelled the old healer, Zhiyu, to copulate with him, and perform lewd acts by lantern-light in…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON Jumping from a moving train isnโt easy, even for an uninjured man. For me it was an ordeal. The train was running slowly, between rows of cut sugar cane just north of Gordonvale. I limped to the door, and dragged it open, trying to…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON Desperate not to attract attention, I stayed under the speed limit, though I could feel the restrained power of the Ford on the open road. I saw just one cop out from Cairns, and he was on the side of the road changing a…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON I woke in a room with light filtering in through yellow curtains. Eyes open, lying on my back, I tried to understand the circumstances in which I found myself. I touched my face and was surprised at the growth there โ the makings of…
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WILD DOG RIVER BY GREG BARRON Yeuen Liang, emissary of the Dragon Head of the Sheathed Sword Society, stood at the foredeck of the two-masted zaw called the Kingfisher, his face reflecting the colours of sunset. The western sky was a spray of brilliant orange, mauve and yellow, and beneath…