<Morning>
They catch the last of the rush of the morning flood tide. They steam through channel markers on the wrong-side and skirt headlands in-close working the tides to get in from the last trip of the season; so it could be done and they could go home. Sand banks and bars gleam white and gold in the morning light as they take the last dogleg in the channel through the mangrove groves where saurian hiss and snap and roar out their appetites for destruction. They are in the Groin of the Gulf where the Norman River flushes fresh into brackish and salt water ocean; this is the source of it all and the Norman feeds a cornucopia of seafood as it ebbs and flows; circulating food around its own ecosphere; nothing ever truly leaving the Norman!
The trawler rounds the last bend as the crumbling wharves and moorings of Karumba comes into to view; the crew ready mooring lines with monkey-fisted—heaving-lines and Stand-By-To-Moor. It is the Top-Of-The-Tide-Boys and the daily push and diurnal pull of tidal flow is as still and sonorous as the slumbering fleet of boats that got in yesterday: all fucked up and tucked in their alcoholic haze. The only movement is the lazy ripple of mullet schools as they cruise and peruse the slack waters under the watchful eye of a snowy egret standing guard with an elegantly speared and de-spined catfish held firmly in his bill. The Norman is momentarily:
Stilled.
The Skipper makes it look easy
Feathering the variable pitch back
And forth and using the tide.
He parks her neat and stopped and still and
Then bawls to his Indonesian crew:
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLL?????????????
JESuuuuuuusssssssssSSSSSSSSSSSS?
Mengikat!
Mengikat
Cepat!
Cepat!"
The Fleet Master stands at his office watching the proceedings from his open office door and as he walked the cat walk from his office to the wharf he kept laughing and pointing and shouted:
"Good thing you can still drive a boat You-Old-Cunt!"
The Skipper shakes his head and with quick paused reflection he gives The Fleet Master
The Finger, _!_;
Shouting:
"Fuck you Bung-Eye at least I can still see!"
"You Haven't Done That Well You Old Cunt!
Equal Bottom Boat?:
It's Mr. Bung-Eye to You!"
"We'll see."
"What's That S'pose To Mean?"
"It's Never Over Until The Fat-Guy Offloads-{"
"Coupla' Hundred Boxes Won't Save You!::"
The skipper calls over one of his Indonesian crew.
He asks him:
"Bööng.......how much carton in freezer?"
The Indonesian crewman grins;
He is in on the joke!
"Banyak!"
"Many Huh?
You Tell Bung-Eye How Many?"
"?"
"Berapa Banyak......Berapa?"
The Indonesian crewman laughs;
He is in on the joke!
He says:
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
"Mr Bung-Eye
I .......Just .......Want .........To Say......
Freezer?
..............
------------
Full!"
The Indonesian crew all laugh out loud; The Skipper laughs, The Fleet Master shakes his head.
He says:
"You-Old-Cunt!"
"That's Mister-Old-Cunt to you Bung-Eye!"
"We'll see!"
"Equal bottom + freezer full? Say...
30 odd tonnes, but hey call it 25 to be certain....
Would make me second boat....
Maybe? If it is 30....
I'd be asking for a bonus....
"Top boat you reckon?"
"After the fuel....
Like I said Bung-Eye
It's never over till the Fat Cunt unloads....
So!
Do I get a beer?"
"Je'S'uS'......
The Fucken' Things I Gotta' Do........
Come on.
There 's coldies in the fridge!"
"Fuck you Bung-Eye.......
Go get us a carton......
These Indos.....
My boys;
They deserve a beer."
"Je'S'us'......
The Fucken' Things I Gotta' Do........
Bööng...............go to pub........
Here...................50 bucks
You bring 1 carton beer ok?"
The Indonesian says:
"Mr Bung-Eye
I .......Just .......Want .........To Say...
The rest of the Indonesian crew begin calling out the name of a popular brand of instant noodles; beginning softly then building louder with catter-calls of
"Mi Goreng, Mi Goreng" echoing along the wharf . The Indonesian crewman, Bööng, laughs; He says:
"Mr Bung-Eye
I .......Just .......Want .........To Say......
So hungry............?
No noodle.............. 2 day.
So hungry!"
"JeSus......
The Fucken Things I Gotta Do........
Here............
Another.......50 bucks
You go see Ma' at the café O-K?"
The Skipper laughs and says:
"Good onya' Bung-Eye; that musta' hurt!
I swear I seen a coupla' moths fluttering out when
You opened your wallet there...................."
"Fuck You, You Fat, Old, Cunt!"
"Nah-Ah-Ahhhhhhh................
We spoke about this.........."
"?"
"That's Mister-Old-Cunt to you Bung-Eye!"
"JeSus......
The Fucken Shit I Gotta Fucken Do........
Come on.....
Let's go and Hav-A-Jacks in the office .........
While I organize an unload crew and trucks and all."
"Thought you'd never ask!"
<Afternoon>
Afternoon comes and with it the wet season mugginess and eventual storm as the crew of 457 visaed Indonesians and Pilipino seamen and engineers and deckhands offload the last boat of the season. They toil in teams and soon have the boat set up with rollers and electric driven hydraulic elevators and tarps and covers to keep off the rain; they begin the offload in earnest. Bööng returns with a carton of cold beer and cartons of take away snacks; spring rolls and dim-sum and curries: he prepares rice. There will be a party when they finish off-loading.
They work in teams and spell each other out so that those amongst them that wish to keep religious observations are free to roll out pray mats and face them to the setting sun and perform their prayers and abasements to Mecca.
They say In-Shall-Ah and Bis-Mill-Ah
As a recording
Of evening prayers
Echoes in the mangroves
And all along the wharfs as
Saurian hiss and snap and roar.
The recording is true and as the altos'
Exhortations Reverberate:
There Is But One God!
"Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.
Ash-Hadu An La Ilaha Ill-Allah.
Ash-Hadu Anna Muhammad-Ar-Rasoolullah.
Hayya 'Alas-Salah. Hayya 'Alas-Salah.
Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.
La Ilaha Ill-Allah"
The skipper and the fleet master sit in the air-con-cool and drink Jacks-N-Rocks and watch through the window as the unload drags on and stops and starts and as the prayer call echoes off the mudflats and the sun sets the fleet master swears and curses; the skipper laughs.
"That —Fucking-Supar-Man!"
The Skipper laughs and sings:
":Ain't No Super-Man"
"He only ever wants to pray when there's work....
Every Fuckin' Time.........."
The Skipper laughs and says:
Come on Bung.................
Give 'Em A Fuckin' Break Will Ya'!"
"Fucken-Lazy-Arsed-Prayer-Rug-Waving>>>>>>>>"
"Pull up on the lazy there Bung-Eye....
Those guys put away 20 tonne for me ......
On the last 4 days of fishin'
Pretty much 4 days straight standin' up:
Don't put 'em on the lazy cunts to me!"
"I Swear To God You Are The Biggest Tin-Arse I Ever......
"Like I said Bung-Eye
It's never over till the Fat Cunt unloads......
Speaking of unloads.......I told my boys.....
Well ; you know........
Give 'em a fucken' bonus Bung............
You know it is fair!"
"Have you got any idea what those cunts cost us
Fucken' flying 'em in----out.....
Fucken rice alone.......
Fucken' Pallets of Fucking Rice for Fucks Sake!"
"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaate..........
Don't make this a shame job;
Tell you what:
I'll go you halves:
Two Fiddy Each:
Five Hunj'."
"Five Indos= $100/Indo?"
"Each!"
"Two and a half grand?
You are fucken' kidding aren't you?"
"Nooooooo....Twelve Fifty Each....Halves remember?"
"*$$%#@((*!))_+++|^^&%$#*))(^E#U*"
" COME ON Bung-------
You CAN SEE IM Fucking Top Boat!
You can take my twelve fifty of me bonus.....
You know the drill....top boat gets what it wants!"
"#@^^*)U^^())R))))*%#$I(C*****%^U*#@!N(()&^%T!"
" COME ON Bung-------Top Boat!
"Je'S'us'......
The Fucken' Things I Gotta Do........"
Good On'ya Bung Eye!...........
You know what I say.....
When people tell me that you are a cunt?"
"?"
"Not Every Time!!!!!!
Come On You Miserable Cunt......
Hav'-A'-Notha'-Jacks-Ya'-Cunt....
Buck Up!:
Its Only Money!"
"Je'S'us'......
The Fucken' Shit I Gotta' Fucken' Do........"
"Good On'ya Bung Eye!"
The Skipper and The Fleet Master sit in the air-con-cool and drink Jacks-On-The -Rocks and watch through the office window as the unload drags on and stops and starts; prayer calls echoes off the mudflats.
The sun sets:
The Fleet Master swears and curses;
The Skipper laughs.
<Evening>
'Animal Bar' Karumba Lodge Hotel
Come early evening and with the unload finally unloaded and packed and stacked and tallied, with the final count confirming Top Boat status The Skipper and the Fleet Master regroup , bellied up in the Animal Bar to celebrate: It Is Bung-Eyes' Shout! There is scant patronage with the wet season washing away the grey nomadic fleet of car-a-van-ers that itinerantly occupy the township in the dry season and with the depleted fleet and being the last boat in most of the Aussie crew has already flown, still drunk, for the party precincts of Cairns and beyond. The Skipper and the Fleet Master drink Wild Turkey stubbies making small talk:
The Fleet Master says:
"Why don't we go into the 'Sauvé Bar'?
Catch A Bit Of Air-Con....."
The Skipper laughs and says:
"Fuck You Bung........You Just .....
Them Fucken' Pokies.........
It's ruined this joint.....!"
"I'm gunna' go in for an hour...
Let it cool off a bit...you know?
Fucking Air Con and All."
The Skipper laughs and says:
"Yeah right..........see you at stumps...
I'll buy you a drink then......."
"?"
"It's still your shout Bung-Eye....
Give us a 'Hungj'".......
I'll buy my own!"
"Je'S'us'......
The Fucken' Shit I Gotta' Fucken' Do........"
The Fleet Master hands over the hundred as The Skipper laughs and says: 'See Ya'
And then calls to the barman:
"Johnno!"
"?"
"Wanna' split a Jacks.....
Bung-Eye Giv' Us A Hungj?"
"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh......
Fuckennnnnnn'........"
"Jesus,.....It's Not Like You're Busy......
Don't Be a Cunt......cunt.
"Go On Then"
..........
.....
.
"Cheers Mate!"
"Cheers..........."
They drink; shot for shot: neat and harsh!
They yarn; back in the day and toast the ghosts
Conjured by the telling
The ghosts re-populate the bar again just like it is back in the day when the ¥en bought fat on the seafood and this time of year would have been a Bacchanalia of Excess and Spend-Thrift-Ness: 100 crews all partying and spending up big. They howl with joy at the day pass, and press against each other in stylized tableaus of disport; they fight they fuck they fornicate in gangs, they smoke and shoot and snort the nasty glitter that circulates like snakes in the ether, they guzzle and gorge themselves: awoken for their wakes finally: they party-hearty!
The Skipper and Johnno drink on and talk it up big and reminisce on when both as deckhands though at different times they had hauled the trawl for the Same-Old-Skippers:
The Legends;
Old School!
"Fucking Old Burnsy: Mad Old Cunt!"
That's somethin' I don't miss....."
"?"
"Fuckin' Burnsy used to come up
Here in just his Jocks N' Thongs
......................
Fucking-Dirty-White-Y-Fronts all ripped
And fucking torn and holes and fucking nasty
Arsed bits and pieces hanging out and
A once white singlet all green at the pits with wear"
"Fucking Old Burnsy: Mad Old Cunt!"
Burnsy's ghost
Moaning
Shouting:
"Why Do You Want To See Me
......... Like This"
And pantomiming his decline into
Senility with gibberish and profanity:
Shit and piss running down his legs
And pooling glowing green
Like engine coolant.
And then sleep;
Sudden sleep
Mumbling and moaning:
"Why Do You Want To See Me
......... Like This"
"................What About .........You Know???.......
The K.G.B.........?"
"The Mad Russian?
I seen it when they broke him
When age and mouth was finally tested
With one of the young-fellas', naughty boy;
Takin' him out."
"Yeah Yeah I remember..
He was outside when the Sarge
Wandered over from the Karumba lockup
.............
To see what the commotion was
And seeing the K.G.B
Copping a little Balmain ballet
And the K.G.B starts yellin' out..
You know in that accent........
..................
'Hêêlp.....Pö-Lœçê.....'Hêêlp Mê!'
"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!'
And The Copper's Going:
'Get Up And Foocking Fight You Foocking Færie'!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!@!"
K.G.B.
Ground and Bound
Sisyphean
Speaks of death
And how it would be
As old wound are re-opened and he
Bleeds once again;
Macerated:
He bleeds green;
Like Engine Coolant.
<Later [And In Love]>
They spoke drunkenly of cooks, the good girls, the naughty girls and the sluts:
The Legends;
Old School!
Remember Rita?
"The Rooter?......
.........................................
Look Mrs Marsh IT DOES GET IN?
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
HAHAHAHAHAHAHH!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
HAHAHAHAHAHAHH!"
She too is conjured,
Glistening,
Bathed in Bu-Ka-Ke!
Frog Swamp Boys,
Deckhands all amphibian and ejaculating:
Tadpoles all swimming and glowing,
Green:
Like engine coolant.
Insensate, mute and mucoid
She smiles; beatific.
"KUNT [cunt] UP IN KARUMBA!"
Last of the rush of the morning flood tide:
Sand banks and bars gleam white and gold in the morning light;
Mangrove groves where saurian hiss and snap and roar.
The Groin of the Gulf;
Crumbling Karumba eroding as
The Norman flushes fresh into brackish and salt water ocean.
The Skipper is in an insensate sopor; snoring on the wharf having made it
Back only this far before collapsing into an alcoholic stupor.
He is found by his Indonesian crew as they
Wake for breakfast and Morning Prayers.
Bööng attempts to wake The Skipper to no avail
Other than incoherent mumblings and stirrings:
The Skipper is out like a light; down for the count and
Cunt up in Karumba;
Again!
His boys know the drill;
They have done this before.
They bring a blanket from his cabin
And roll him onto it like a stretcher; they hoist
And lift him saying
In-Shall-Ah
For luck as they take advantage of the Top-Of-The-Tide
To manhandle the sling aboard
And put The Skipper to bed;
On his side,
With a bucket.
They have done this before.
The Norman is momentarily:
Stilled.
WJP Newnham has had stories published the seminal Melbourne literary magazines
Nocturnal Submissions, Overland, The Lifted Brow and
Meanjin. Full of Crow and
Gapped Tooth Madness, 2 magazines out of California, have also published his stories. Ben John Smith is a big fan and has published 6 stories on his
Lits and Tits website
Horror Sleaze Trash.
Going Down Swinging and
Elohi Gadugi have published his stories 2014 whilst
Street Cake and
SynchChaos have accepted stories for publication in 2015. He has finished writing a novella called "Fuck You; Hemingway" and is looking for a publisher.
He lives in Brisbane, Australia with his partner and 2 blue-heelers.