Photographs taken at the time by residents of nearby houses have now emerged –
showing the two men, clinging to a street sign as they desperately tried to
save the trapped family.

Warren McErlean decided he wanted to meet the father of the boy he had carried
to safety – but was tormented by thoughts of the two who were swept away. It
was not until 72 hours later, on Thursday, that he steeled himself to turn
up unannounced at the Tyson house, and offer his condolences.

But, in a twist that is remarkable even by the extraordinary standards of
Queensland’s last few days, he found himself being comforted by the man he
had come to console.

As Blake sat watching television in the front room of the family’s
single-storey timber house, Mr Tyson told The Sunday Telegraph of his
first encounter with his son’s rescuer.

“I knew he might be plagued by a few demons,” he said. “In fact
he was shattered by everything.

“I said that I knew he had done the best he could and that I could be
mourning three kids. Apparently, he has taken it hard. If I can help him
with it – well, he helped me.”

Mr McErlean, 37, who owns a business building sheds, was on Saturday with his
wife Debora driving his truck around the nearby town of Postman’s Ridge,
offering help to those whose houses had been torn apart.

Since his first visit to the Tyson father and son, Mr McErlean has gone back
every day, and says he will keep doing so. He is rarely lost for words, but
when asked about the first encounter he fell silent and looked at the
ground, before saying simply: “It was intense.”

Neither man has been able to contact the other rescuer, whose name they do not
know and whom Mr McErlean had never previously met. But, Mr McErlean said,
he has now bonded for life with Blake Tyson and his father.

“I just wish I could have done more,” he told The Sunday Telegraph.
“It’s been really good going up to see John and Blake. But this whole
hero thing bothers me a bit. Little Jordan is the hero, not me. I’ve been
learning a lot about him. I was in his room. Apparently he was a quiet boy
and the only thing he cared about was his family.”

The day after the tragedy – which happened to be his 46th birthday – Mr Tyson
took Blake with him to the morgue to identify the body of his son and Donna,
who had been his partner since they met as teenagers. They also have two
older sons.

He did not want to see the bodies. But Blake insisted they say goodbye. “There
I was on my birthday, looking at Jordan’s broken finger sticking out,”
says Mr Tyson, not attempting to hold back the tears.

“I didn’t want us to go in but Blake insisted. I think it gave him
something to cling to – if looking at your dead mum and brother is something
to cling to… Some bloody present – identifying my missus and kid.”

The second Samaritan has yet to be identified. The man’s family members have
called local radio to say he is too shattered to talk about what happened.

Mr McErlean says he can never forget watching the family debate over what
order they should be saved in. “There was commotion in the car. Jordan
was arguing because he wanted the younger boy to go first. I found out later
that he did this even though he couldn’t swim.

“The other man just looked at me and I looked at him. We shook our heads.
We knew the current was too strong. It was tragic. Blake was just screaming
for his mum, saying ‘Please save Mum, please save my mum’.”

Donna, seeing her older boy carried off, let go of the branch she had clung to
and went after him to try to save him.

“She would not have wanted it any other way,” said Mr Tyson. “If
Jordan went by himself, she would have been devastated. They had a special
bond, those three.”

The “inland tsunami” on Monday was up to 150 yards wide and tore
through anything in its way. It ripped canyons into the land and swept up
houses, cars and trucks around the riverways. As many as 28 people listed as
missing may yet remain deep beneath the debris.

Beau Nunn, a 51-year old country singer, watched from his rooftop in Grantham
as water-borne debris slammed into surrounding houses. He saw cars, houses,
concrete water tanks and even an empty Cessna plane rushing past in the
torrent.

“It was like being on a houseboat dodging missiles,” he said. “If
anyone of those things would have hit our house, we would have been in the
drink. We just sat there watching and freaking.”

There is wreckage everywhere you go across south-west Queensland. Trees and
power poles lie up-ended on river banks. Piles of discarded muck contain
relics from destroyed homes: mattresses, clothes, books, doors, tennis
rackets, toys, fencing, chairs, washing machines and prams. On a bridge that
had been cut in half, a search through rank-smelling debris revealed a
mud-covered fridge which was still filled with food.

Evacuees from the worst-hit towns have recalled the destruction – and many
other incredible acts of bravery.

The feats of Ray Van Dijk and Daniel Moore, who hauled dozens to safety in a
runabout Indian canoe, are fast turning into legend among the survivors of
Grantham, the inland township which has become known as “ground zero”
of the devastating floods.

The pair guided a AUS $200 wooden boat that Mr Van Dijk once picked up for his
daughters from a roadside stall around their local streets to rescue
neighbours.

As houses collapsed around them, the pair ventured into water thick with mud
on rescue runs to the town’s lower, worst-hit streets. The chest-high water
was moving too fast to paddle it against the current, so the pair held onto
the canoe and waded through instead.

At a house that no longer had walls they found an elderly couple, standing in
shock on a platform in chest-high water. They put them on board and pulled
them back to their own house, a little higher above the water.

They found a family of four trapped in the rising waters of their living room
– and dragged them to safety through a window.

Daniel Watkins, 41, a Grantham resident who was saved along with his wife,
Sharon, 40, and daughter, Claire, 13, said of the pair: “They were
coming along with the canoe, calling out ‘Is anybody there? Is anybody
there?’

“There was more water coming. They got us to their house. Then they went
off again and just kept coming back with more people… I can’t say how many
they saved. I think we ended up with about two dozen people at their house.”

Mr Moore, 41, who fits fire safety systems, said: “I’m not special. We
just did what had to be done.”

Mr Van Dijk, 46, a security guard, admitted to fear, but quickly added that he
was a keen fisherman – his grandfather was a Dutch commercial angler – and
he “has never been scared of water”.

“I thought we were all gone,” he said. “Everything was
crumbling. We could see houses and cars moving past… We just kept going
from door to door.”

By the end of their effort, a crowd of drenched survivors had joined Mr Van
Dijk’s family on the roof of their house. They waited throughout the night
until emergency rescue teams arrived and carried people out – in groups of
10 – on the cabin of a bulldozer.

In this inland valley area, creeks usually run dry or at a trickle and drought
is a constant threat. But the slow-moving waterways turned ferocious last
week, as a body of water the size of Sydney harbour made its way across the
state.

The capital of Queensland, Brisbane, was hit on Thursday, bringing the city –
and the nation – to a standstill. Thousands of homes and businesses were
lost, as riverside suburbs were left underwater.

More than 100,000 homes had their power cut; police prowled on boats for
looters (10 were arrested); galleries and libraries were forced to evacuate
precious artworks and books.

On Saturday it emerged that a 23-month-old baby was probably the youngest
victim of the flood. Jessica Keep was torn from the arms of her mother
Stacey by the wall of water that hit Grantham, and remains unaccounted for.

Mrs Keep, who is six months pregnant, was inside her house comforting Jessica
when the flash flood rushed in, sucking them both outside and into the
torrent.

Still holding Jessica, Mrs Keep was swept onto the nearby railway line by the
force of the water.

“Her legs got caught in the sleepers and she was drowning with her baby
in her arms,” Darren Keep, her brother-in-law, said.
The torrent tore Jessica from her mother’s arms moments before a helicopter
pilot rescued her and took her to hospital, where she is still recovering.

The only relief last week was, despite the worst rainfall for 10 years, the
river peaked at levels lower than expected.

Brisbane itself was so well prepared that the only fatality was a 24-year-old
man who went to check on his father’s property and was dragged into a
stormwater drain .

But up river, in the Lockyer Valley, police and soldiers are still scouring
through the refuse for bodies. The debris is thick and even the smells can
be misleading: they are frequently from animal corpses or decomposing meat.

Farmers and townsfolk are returning to their properties, where they are forced
to quickly decide whether to try to clean up or just bulldoze what is left
of their house.

The entire town of Grantham – a presumed graveyard – has been declared a crime
scene until the bodies have been retrieved.

Toowoomba is rebuilding fast, but families remain torn apart, some waiting for
answers that may never come. The wife and son of James Perry, a racing
steward who was seen with them in graphic television footage on the roof of
his car, are still waiting for word of his fate. They were winched to
safety, but he has disappeared. He is almost certainly dead.

Meanwhile Jordan Rice’s exploits have become celebrated on Facebook, where a
tribute page has attracted hundreds of thousands of followers. He would have
shunned the fame if he were living, says his father.

“He was an introverted boy and he would have shied away from all that,”
Mr Tyson said. “But he should get some kudos. He gave his life to save
his brother. He deserves his time to shine.”