The
link here is in coincidence of the date.
At the end of the song Agnetha sings about a decade in the
future (1989) so the song is about New Years Eve 1979/80.
The party that Harry missed because he was so horribly mutilated
by vengeful modern pirates and the date that ‘Red’
flew to be with him was New Years Eve 1979 - Perhaps
not a strong link - but it feels right.
Chapter reproduced with kind permission of the
author
1979
- New Years Eve Party
As told by Christopher Tredon Hate and revenge - both so human
This story was not part of the manuscript
that Hendrick sent to me, but I think it should be included.
I know why Harry left it out, he thinks that it makes him
look a bit foolish but I disagree. I think it just goes
to prove that he was as human and fallible as the rest of
us. I have asked Hendrick to try and slip it in. He has
told me that Harry will never read the book so I’m
reasonably safe. In a way it is important as it may, in
some way, explain the start of the change in Harry. Perhaps
it was the time when we all started to change. We had felt
loathing and distress in the past, but this is when the
Ducks learned to hate.
It will also give me a chance to put on record my own thoughts
about a few things and I noticed that Harry really never
says much about Red. There is a lot of ‘we spent time
together’ etc but nothing that gives even a clue as
to how they were with each other. Not once does Harry mention
that he called her ‘little one’, none of us
have any idea why as she certainly wasn’t little.
It must have just been a form of endearment but if so, it
was the only one he ever used, he wasn’t an ‘endearment’
type of guy.
She might have been from what Harry calls ‘one of
those humorless cold countries’ but some of her ways
were very Italian - like the way she would slap him on the
back of the head and call him ‘Stupido’ and
something else that sounded like ‘Ja narugtuc menasne’
when he did something that, to her view, was not right.
Poor old Harry, I think that first slap was when he fell
in love with her.
Now Harry at times got the devil in him
and he loved to make comic mischief, Red had the same trait
only she was much better at it. She soon discovered that
you didn’t need a gun or dagger to bring Harry to
his knees, all you had to do was tickle him. He was probably
the most ticklish person I have ever met and she took full
advantage of the fact. One night, (I think it would have
been 1982), Harry, Taff, Morbid and I were sitting around
a table in a small ship we had just delivered, enjoying
a few beers and talking about nothing in particular, when
Red turned up. She nestled in with her arms around Harry
and her head on his shoulder as she often did. Harry gave
her a sideways look. "What are you up to"? He
asked.
"Nuzzing" she replied, putting on an exaggerated
accent, "Just coodeling". Harry wasn’t
impressed. "Well behave yourself or I will send you
to bed with no supper". She gave a look of hurt innocence.
"Choo would not send luttle me avay on sooch a dark
night"
"I would if you misbehave". She pouted as if
hurt by the accusation but continued to purr like a kitten.
Harry was uneasy at this little performance, he couldn’t
properly see her face but I could. She had a dangerous twinkle
in the eye and a ‘pleased with herself’ smile
on her face. I knew what was coming. Harry reached for his
glass and she pounced. Latching tightly onto him she started
to tickle his ribs. Within seconds he was on the floor helpless
with laughter, with Red still firmly attached. After a few
minutes I noticed that the embrace was becoming rather more
than a ticklefest.
"Hey, you two aren’t going to have sex are you"?
I asked.
"NO" Harry screamed.
"JA" Red replied, with the smug look of somebody
who has just successfully achieved an objective.
There was really nothing for the rest of us to do but depart
as quickly as possible. We went down to Taff’s cabin
and played cards. From the deck above we continued to hear
thumps, bumps and crashes as furniture went everywhere.
Poor Harry, he was helpless where Red was concerned.
* * *
We had just finished an underwater clearance job and were
enjoying a few days break in Hong Kong. The whole crew was
there and Red was playing the role of mother hen, well,
as much as she could. Looking back it seems strange that,
although the same age as us, at the time we all regarded
Red as an older sister. Perhaps sister is the wrong word,
our thoughts were often too carnal for that but you know
what I mean. We could tell she wanted Harry to herself for
a few days, she kept sending the rest of us out of the hotel.
Harry was stuck in the middle, he wanted to enjoy a few
ales and laughs with the troops but he also didn’t
want to upset Red - which, believe me, was never a wise
thing to do.
Given this chance I should explain something. Red was the
only woman ever who could ‘handle’ Harry. He
was the sort that could talk women into (or out of) just
about anything. I never did quite understand how he did
it. Perhaps they got a surprise that a face like his could
breathe so much charm. I think he just caught them off-guard.
But no matter how much charm he spread around it didn’t
fool or intimidate Red in the slightest. If she wanted one
thing and he wanted another she would stand toe to toe with
him, hands on hips, chin and chest thrust forward and verbally
slug it out. They didn’t shout at each other; let’s
just say that it was more of an intensity contest. Needless
to say, Red usually won. Because of this, she was Harry’s
counterbalance. I believe that without her he would have
tipped in only one direction and I hate to think what that
direction might have been.
When you get a group of men traveling together,
it is only natural that they are going to try and grab some
female company along the way. To put it crudely, if Harry
was getting a bit, we saw no reason not to find some females
so we could do the same. Drinking and sharing a few jokes
together is one thing but it gets much better if you have
your own bit of stuff. Even here Red took an interest, or,
I should say, policeman role. We had to try and sneak our
females into the hotel without her seeing them, or they
got the third degree. She would have to talk to them (interrogation
would be a better word) and if they didn’t measure
up in some way they just vanished back out the door. At
the time it used to annoy the hell out of us but looking
back, she probably did save us from a lot of trouble.
On the night this little story begins I
was, in fact, in bed with a little brunette that I had snuck
past Red. We had just got comfortable and were enjoying
a ‘pre-activity’ glass of champagne, when there
was a thumping on the door. I opened it (with many curses)
and Red barged into the room. "Get dressed,"
she said, "You’re leaving in twenty minutes.
Max has been on the phone". Then seeing my companion,
"Sorry, he has to go, duty calls". She was just
about to close the door after her, then stopped and added.
"Well perhaps, you can leave in thirty minutes ...
enjoy". Then she was gone to rouse the others. At
least I had another ten minutes - Oh joy.
Harry told us the story as we sat, a very
dejected group, in the lobby bar. A ship was steaming south
under no flag. Max had been requested to ensure that this
cargo never got to its destination. Evidently the authorities
at the port of destination had been alerted to this ship
but being an extremely corrupt country nothing was going
to be done to arrest her. In this politically correct world
no foreign authority wanted to be seen to seize this seemingly
harmless ship. The bad guys of this world rely on the do-gooders
and civil libertarians to give them cover for their operations.
So, once again it was up to the Ducks. It really wasn’t
fair. There were hundreds of thousands of people around
the world drawing government paychecks to take care of situations
like this. Yet, it seemed that whenever something nasty
or ‘outside official guidelines’ turned up,
we got lumbered with it. The fact that we weren’t
in any way ‘government’ or ‘official’
and in fact, to the world, non existent, seemed to give
people license to use us as they liked.
As usual, Red came with us to the airport.
She always saw Harry off and was there for his return. Over
the years she must have spent a lot of time at airports
and on docksides waiting for her man. We could get alongside
at 2am on a cold, wet and windy morning and there she was
on the dock - she never failed. I say she waited for Harry
but she was also there waiting for the rest of us. We all
got the once over before she let us go out to play. She
would also bring fresh clothes, soap, towels and razors
and we had to get cleaned up and then pass the ‘Red’
inspection. Harry always said that women are very strange.
We could have just fought a battle, stormed vessels, been
shot at and blown up and all she cared about was that we
were clean and presentable before going to our homes. None
of us thought it particularly funny when she turned up at
one ship with a peg on her nose. It’s hard to stay
clean when you are holding an old wreck together. No fresh
water, very little power, eight men (sometimes more) to
handle a 16,000 GRT ship that wants to sink. What did she
expect, that we would hold everything to get changed into
a clean shirt?
From here we had to get to a spot closer
to where the vessel was. (But I’m not saying where).
Once there we would be supplied with the gear we needed
and a helicopter to get us out to the vessel. Morbid would
be our pilot.
At the airport a funny thing happened. As we moved through
into the customs controlled area Red suddenly gave a little
gasp and threw her arms around Harry holding him very tight.
She had never done this before. Usually it was a quick kiss
and ‘see you later’. This time was different.
She just held on, her head resting on his chest. Harry was
a bit sheepish; this was a Red he couldn’t handle
at all. He just stood there not moving, arms pinned to his
side by the embrace, looking confused and I think, a bit
embarrassed, as he went very red in the face (he did, probably
still does, have a tendency to blush). As she finally let
go she said,
"Now you be very careful my captain. Be very, very
careful. In a few days we are to spend New Years Eve together
- I want you at that party and in one piece". Then
she ran from the building. Nuts gave Harry a thoughtful
look, and then he glanced over at Taff and Morbid who were
doing the same. It may have been my imagination but from
that moment they all seemed to be staying closer than normal
to Harry’s side.
Harry was in the seat next to me in the plane and we hadn’t
been in the air but a few minutes when he suddenly said
"Bugger".
"What’s up"? I asked "Did you forget
something". He looked at me trying to control rather
nervous laughter. "Oh yes’, he managed to get
out "Boy did I forget something. Well too late now".
If I didn’t know better I would have thought he was
giggling like a schoolgirl during her first romantic encounter.
At the time he didn’t volunteer any further information
so I didn’t ask - but I did wonder...
By ten o’clock the next morning we
had arrived at our destination, picked up our gear and were
in the air. I am not sure what sort of helicopter it was;
I meant to ask Morbid but never got around to it. One thing
for sure it was ex-military, it was an evil looking brute.
Once, when having a drink with Harry I asked him what little
luxury he would like in life. His answer was "To fly
in a helicopter with doors and padded seats". He was
right; every machine we ever got in sported open sides and
had seats that were nothing more than metal benches.
We didn’t have our usual weapons. The arms supplied
were also, no doubt, ex-military. Machine guns and side
arms, Guns called them heavy barrel rifles but to me they
looked and worked like machine guns.
At 1030 we spotted the little vessel, it could have been
no more than 1500 tons. This made things difficult, getting
lowed onto the deck of such a small ship left us a bit exposed
to attack. However, we did have one further item supplied
to us - bulletproof vests. They were comforting but did
still leave a lot of the body exposed, head, arms, legs
and certain other rather important places. As it was, the
sea was so calm that Morbid brought us in from astern and
just hovered about five feet off the miniscule deck - by
god he was a good pilot. So we didn’t get lowered,
we jumped. As per our training, we hit the deck and rolled,
trying to get behind any cover available. But we needn’t
have bothered there was no resistance. The crew just ‘gave
up’. Unlikely as it seems they had only one firearm
onboard and that an aging, rusty revolver of a type not
seen for many years. The man obviously captain of this motley
crew handed the weapon to Cyclops, who simply chucked it
over the side. It was all a bit of a let down and the built
up adrenalin would take some time to dissolve back into
the system. Perhaps Harry would make the New Years Eve party
after all, we had a long way to steam but if nothing went
wrong he might just make it. Nuts and Guns escorted the
crew away and locked them in a gear store. Then there really
wasn’t that much to do.
Harry detailed us all off to different duties.
I got the best job of all - find booze. Pics came with me
and we soon located a working fridge stocked with ale and
a cupboard with some form of revoltingly sweet smelling
hard liquor. Food was also in good supply but the galley
was so filthy we decided against trying anything. That is,
except for Taff, he was in seventh heaven. He had found
a whole bunch of bananas; bread and something that looked
a bit like butter. Well at least he had a big smile and
full stomach. I must say, the smile got a bit strained as
Harry was in such a good mood that he thought he would sing
- something he should never, ever, try to do. A couple of
days prior to our leaving Australia he and Red had gone
to a small theatre to see Gilbert and Sullivan’s ‘The
Pirates of Penzance’ so, there he was, telling the
world that he ‘was a pirate king’. Thank goodness
he didn’t try and sing too often, I guess he was relieved
that there hadn’t been any trouble in taking the ship.
To make matters worse Taff and Cyclops thought they might
as well join in. There they were one short druid, one shortsighted
firefighter and one overgrown schoolboy - not the
world’s greatest chorus line. Some people have beautiful
voices, some good voices, others terrible voices. If you
move several rungs further down the ladder you come to where
Harry would be placed, plus this was when we discovered
that he was a bit tone deaf. It was dreadful, yet there
was a lot of joy in the attempt.
With the crew locked in the forward gear
store we settled into a two-watch system. I gather that
the plan was to get the vessel close to a certain port and
then sink her. That wouldn’t take much, she was leaking
like a sieve, especially around the wind and water line
(some call it the weather and water line) with only the
pumps keeping her afloat. Then we were to get ashore in
one of the boats to where Max had made arrangements for
us to be ‘retrieved’ and quietly disappear.
Well it sounded simple enough. Taff reported back from the
hold and announced that there must have been close to a
ton of cocaine onboard. Somebody was going to be really
pissed off at us.
We steamed through a pleasant afternoon,
and then the short evening started to set in. I shared the
watch with Taff, Nuts and Pics - Harry, Guns, Cyclops took
the other. With Morbid away we were one short but she was
only a tiddler of a vessel. At around 2359 we came off watch
and Harry and his duo took over. Harry, naturally, took
the bridge, Cyclops the engine room and Guns floated wherever
required but mainly acted as roving lookout. Well, that’s
what he called it; actually it was more as running barman
to the bridge and engine room. The rest off us played a
few short games of cards and then decided to turn in; it
had been a long day. Taff did suggest that we feed the prisoners
but we said to hell with them, we would do it in the morning.
It was about 0200 when something woke me;
it was Taff trying to get out of the mess to use the heads
(serves him right for eating over ripe bananas). For some
reason the door had jammed. Together we battered it but
still it wouldn’t budge.
"I don’t like this BoyO" said Taff "This
door has been dogged from the other side, it isn’t
just stuck".
Nuts, awoken by the row joined in but still the door wouldn’t
move. Usually if you dog a door on one side you can still
open it from the other but not this time. We woke Pics and
together started a search of the compartment. There was
nothing found to prize the door open but Pics did find an
old escape hatch above his bunk. It had been painted over
and then allowed to rust; probably even the crew had forgotten
it was there. It took us about half an hour to get the thing
open and then, fully armed, we climbed through onto the
deck. Everything was quiet there was no sound of anything
being wrong, the engines were still beating and we were
holding a true course. A cool night wind whipped at our
clothes as we split into two teams of two, deciding the
bridge was the best place to start. Nuts and Taff went to
the foot of the starboard stairway and Pics and I took the
port side. Silently climbing we homed in on the dim red
light coming through the wheelhouse windows. I peered in
staying as much in the shadow as possible. All five of the
ships crew was there, plus there was a crumpled heap in
one corner, it was Harry.
Then things happened pretty quickly. Taff
must have looked in through the other window. All I remember
is hearing the other side door slide open with an almighty
crash and then the sound of gunfire, which went on and on.
Pics and I had hit the deck as the bullets were coming in
our direction. The little Welshman must have seen Harry
and he went quite mad. He was shouting at them and firing
at the same time. I couldn’t hear the words but the
meaning was clear, they were all going to die - which they
did, noisily and very messily. Then it went silent, Taff
has exhausted his magazine.
The crew might have had a little escape hatch of their own
but they hadn’t been very bright. They had left no
guard to watch the mess, instead preferring to indulge in
a little bit of revenge. Well, that had been the end for
them. I felt no regrets.
I won’t detail the next few minutes it was all rather
grim. Nuts took over and detailed us to various tasks. This
time I got the short straw, helping Pics to dump the bodies
over the side. Then we went and joined Taff, who was beside
Harry, tears streaming down his cheeks and onto Harry’s
face. It was about the worse moment of my life. Taff was
just kneeling there, looking down at what could be seen
of his friend lying in an ocean of blood, some his own some
from the ship’s original crew. Both Harry’s
legs plus his right arm were at unnatural angles. His head
was just a mass of blood and more ran from the side of his
mouth. He looked so small. Not even the worse of animals
does this to another, just smash a body out of hatred. You
can kill in fury (or some can) but this was methodical torture,
just for the fun and hate of it. This bloody mess just couldn’t
be Harry - but it was.
Something that added to the unreality was that a large cruise
ship was passing quite close to us. The decks were awash
with light and we could even hear the music. Naturally they
were too proud to notice our tiny tub, we were showing no
steaming lights but they must have seen us on radar. She
made the whole thing seem more like a dream; could there
possible be two such different worlds? We were tempted to
radio them for assistance but didn’t. Harry wouldn’t
have thanked us for exposing the Ducks to the outside world,
even if it were to save his life.>
>Nuts now took firm command. He rummaged
through Harry’s shirt pocket and located a bit of
paper, it was smeared red but still legible. Then he told
Pics and I to go to the engine room and look for Cyclops
and Guns. I must confess I was glad to get away my stomach
was none to good and the hate I was feeling at the time
needed a distraction. As it was both of them were OK. Guns
had been taking a beer to Cyclops when the crew had jammed
the door shut. They had tried to exit via an emergency hatch
but that too was jammed. Pics told them what had happened
and about Harry. Cyclops took off like a rocket to the wheelhouse;
I had never seen him move so fast. We followed up but I
must say that I didn’t really want to go back. Nuts
allowed Cyclops into the wheelhouse but stopped the rest
of us. I can’t blame him; it was a bit crowded in
there. Instead we set about getting the ship back into order.
After all we were still a ship running at night showing
no lights (we always ran in darkness) so we had to watch
out for other ‘legal’ vessels. Morbid once said
that we should be called ‘The Dark Ships’ rather
than ‘The Mucky Ducks’. Nuts, Cyclops and Taff
got Harry onto a stretcher and down to the master’s
cabin, such as it were. One blessing was that Harry was
unconscious, if not the pain from the movement would have
been enough to kill him. I know we were all thinking the
same thing - Harry was dying. We needed Morbid, plus a miracle.
We cleaned up the hideously stained wheelhouse
sufficient for the wheel to be manned (Taff had made a terrible
mess of them) and got this cursed ship back onto course.
I couldn’t get the image out of my mind of Harry only
a few hours earlier singing with Taff and Cyclops and I
confess that my eyes too were watering.
Pics took the first trick and he looked very green. I admit
that at this time I got stuck into the sweet liquor. It
was horrible but did help to numb the senses. To me the
situation for Harry looked very grim. Even if he lived through
the night we were still another 18 hours from any port that
we could use and even I could see that he wouldn’t
last that long. Guns joined me but silently, we didn’t
really talk, there was only one thing on our minds and we
didn’t want to talk about that.
It must have been about 0500 and I thought
I was going crazy, I could hear a helicopter. Then Guns
looked up, if he could also hear it, it must be real. We
raced out on deck and there, coming out of the sunrise,
was our helicopter. I could tell by the wobble as it hovered
over the stern that Morbid was not at the controls and this
was confirmed when a few seconds later he jumped down onto
the deck followed by another man. Neither paid any attention
to us; just fell in behind Nuts who led them to the cabin
where Harry was laying. The helicopter then banked over
the stern and vanished. I think it was hardest for us who
were left just standing around, waiting and not knowing.
We tried to eat some of the food, just to pass the time.
One odd thing. I got a pretty good look at the helicopter
pilot as he turned away from us and I will swear he was
wearing a military uniform.
It was about 0800 when Morbid joined us
in the little crew mess. His face was white and he looked
even grimmer than usual. We all sat around the filthy table.
"Well" Morbid began. "Harry is bad, very
bad. Both his legs have been dislocated at the knees, his
right arm dislocated at the elbow and he has been burned.
He also has a fracture of the left cheekbone. But the bad
bit is that he has a fractured skull and has lost a lot
of blood". He paused to let it sink in. Seeing us
all about to speak he held up his right arm "Don’t
ask me if he is going to live because I don’t know
- but very much doubt it". He sat down. "A friend
of mine is with him now. He’s the best doctor within
a thousand miles".
Guns leaned forward "How the hell did you get here"?
He asked. Morbid looked surprised. "Nuts phoned me"
he said "Or rather he radioed Max’s contact
who phoned and told me what had happened and to get here
PDQ". Of course - that was the paper Nuts had pulled
from Harry’s pocked, it had all the contact details.
It was good that Morbid was here but it was still a long
way to our safe port.
Having Morbid’s friendly doctor onboard was a bit
of a worry. He had seen the mess in the wheelhouse, he saw
us walking about wearing side arms and - I think, Morbid
had had to tell him who we were. His name was Clive and
he had a lot of experience in surgery under his belt, including
neurosurgery. I have no idea how Morbid knew him or from
where and I didn’t ask. We didn’t see a lot
of him but he seemed a nice enough guy, he drank beer, so
he must have been OK. I asked him what Morbid had meant
when he said Harry had been burned and he told me that a
blow torch had been used on Harry’s left ankle. To
me this just seemed ludicrous, why burn a foot?
We didn’t sink the ship, as it would
have been impossible for Harry to survive being lowered
over the side and then spend time in a small boat. But we
did dump the cargo into the ocean. I guess there were some
pretty happy fish swimming around for a while.
Instead, after another day and a bit steaming, we got to
a small port, the type that asks no questions. We gave the
ship to some local fishermen, and then by truck we got Harry
to a western hospital. It was a long journey as this was
definitely not a Christian country. Harry kept slipping
in and out of consciousness, mainly out. It was just my
luck to be beside him when, for a moment, he seemed to know
where he was. He looked up at me, gripped my arm and whispered,
"What’s the date"? I was so surprised
that it took me a second or two to answer "It’s
the first of January Harry, It’s the 80s" He
groaned.
"Oh no, Red is going to murder me, I missed the party",
then his hand fell away and he slipped out of it again.
They were waiting for us at the hospital
and Harry was whisked away in a flash. The rest of us just
sat about. The day dragged into evening. At around 1830
a doctor appeared looking very grim. Harry had slipped into
a deep coma - now it was just a matter of time. Naturally,
apart from Morbid and Clive none of us were allowed to see
him. Pics and Taff were busy supplying blood, they being
the only two having the some blood group. The night dragged
on and we really didn’t know what to do. To stay seemed
pointless and leaving an impossibility. I knew one thing;
if Harry died I was going to quit.
It was about 0400 when the door burst open
and a scarlet fury was standing there. How Red got there
so fast I never knew but Max did have some powerful connections.
I don’t know what she said as she spoke, or rather
screamed in her own language to me it sounded something
like "ja indscancet something or other" -
plus a lot of other words too garbled to properly hear*
but the tone was clear. She was giving us curry for letting
this happen to Harry. Her eyes were very green and blazing,
the lips were pursed, she stamped her foot, shouted, waved
her arms and shouted some more then suddenly she seemed
to run out of steam and just stood there. Her eyes were
full of tears. Now we were at a loss. Men are never good
when women cry but to see our Red crying was just unimaginable,
she was usually so strong. Morbid appeared and she just
flew into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder.
Quietly he led her away.
At the airport she had begged Harry to be careful, I can
still hear her "Now be very careful my Captain. Be
very, very careful". She had known something was going
to happen. All the Ducks believed she knew and being seamen
and therefore superstitious, it didn’t seem at all
strange. When you live with the sea you accept things.
It would be pointless for me to ramble on
about the next few days. We got rooms at a nearby brothel
(it really was) and took turns visiting the hospital. I
think we were just waiting for it all to end, all that is,
except for Red.
From the time she first got to his bedside she just never
left and even the tough nursing staff couldn’t budge
her. She slept alongside him holding his hand and she never
stopped talking to him. Hour after hour - day after day.
She nagged and cursed him, she kissed him and murmured sweet
nothings, she read him articles from the paper and told
jokes - she never stopped. There were no more tears, just
sheer bloody determination.
And on day four he woke up.
I was in the waiting room at the time and
heard Red scream. Thinking the worst had at last happened
I rushed into the room and there he was - One battered captain
looking very confused, with one scruffy looking redhead
crying on his chest and muttering "mig smook gargoyle.
I didn’t know what the first bit was but he had always
looked a bit like a gargoyle. Without saying a word I went
to the phone and called the others. Soon there was a crowd
in the room. The nurses did try to stop us all from entering
but all that happened was that they got picked up and kissed,
then dumped out the door. Red got kissed and hugged, kissed
and hugged, kissed and hugged. I bet she had some pretty
bruised ribs when the thank yous were over. She had always
been a sort of Queen to the Ducks, now she was elevated
to Goddess. We couldn’t give her a crown so instead
we got her captains’ epaulettes to be worn on the
shoulders, exactly the same as Harry’s. At first she
was a bit shy about wearing them but we insisted and soon
they were a fixture. I have to say she was a much better
looking captain than Harry.
The next day I saw a very ‘Harry and
Red’ thing happen.
Harry was trying, or rather insisting on getting out of
bed or at least sitting up. Twice Red pushed him back. When
he tried the third time she stood over him and said. "You
know how sometimes I slap you on the head"? Harry
looked at her and very slightly nodded. "Imagine"
she continued, "How much that would hurt with your
head the way it is". He got the message.
It was difficult getting Harry back to Australia. His legs
and right arm were in some pretty heavy braces, plus his
head was still a mass of bandages and what could be seen
of the face was swollen and brown/blue. No airline will
take a person in that condition but we struck lucky. In
just over two weeks a British cruise ship was calling at
a port not too far away and Max managed to get a cabin for
Red and Harry. Actually it was the best stateroom in the
ship and at last, she would have him all to herself for
around 10 days. They agreed to take Harry provided he had
a nurse with him. Well, he had the best bloody nurse in
the world. She didn’t have any training but she did
have wonderful red hair.
Postnote
It was a good three months before I found out what had made
Harry ‘giggle’ on the plane. Red had been driving
him crazy about his diet. She had cut his normal three course
breakfast down to fruit juice, toast and coffee, lunch to
a small portion of lean meat and salad (which he naturally
left on the plate) and dinner to something light, like an
omelet.
Although not much referred to in the manuscript it should
be known that Harry was a prankster. His pranks were never
hurtful or malicious but if you stirred him up you had to
watch your back.
In this case Red was the target (he was hungry), nothing
very sophisticated; all he had done was scatter itching
powder in her underwear drawer. At the time he thought he
would be around to get a chuckle from the result and tell
her how to stop the itching but then, as you know, we got
called away.
Later, when he learned the facts, Taff reckoned that Harry
stayed in a coma so long because he was too afraid to wake
and face Red’s revenge. He’s probably right.
------------------------------
From Sylvia
This part of the story happily ends with
a cruise for two. The long-term results, unfortunately,
are still with us. Actually Hendrick (my brother) arranged
for us to meet so that I could become a friend as the old
fool refuses to see a doctor. This way he gets care without
realising it.
As I write this he is 56. His legs, although treated at
the time, are now giving him a lot of pain. They would heal
if he would only wear the necessary braces for a couple
of months and possibly have some surgery but he won’t.
This is Harry we are talking about. Naturally as soon as
he gets out of sight he takes them off, as he thinks they
made him walk ‘silly’. If he doesn’t do
as he is told the damage may become irreparable and he won’t
be walking at all.
There is no sign of the damage I most feared after reading
this part of the manuscript. I know that Harry was conscious
when his legs and arm were broken and his foot burned. Blessed
oblivion only came after the first blow to the head. Luckily,
when he is awake, he has very little recollection of the
incident, it is only in dreams that the full horror surfaces.
I did have a smile when I read about Red always checking
them before, as Chris puts it, ‘they were allowed
out to play’. I would love to have seen that. I can
understand that she wanted Harry clean; no woman wants a
dirty smelly man around; as for the others? I think she
got territorial, in a way all the Ducks were hers and if
they were grubby it reflected on her. Nuts told me that
she was always immaculately dressed and tidy so it was part
of her personal make-up. He also told me that she always
brought one other thing with her to the ships and that was
drink. Not alcohol, ships then carried little or no milk
and it was the first thing they wanted; plain ice cold milk.
To this day Harry drinks around two litres of milk a day,
straight from the container, never from a glass. Nearly
every time he passes the refrigerator he swigs some down.
No doubt it explains the present rather expanded waistline.
I confess to being a bit confused by aspects of this episode.
CT casually mentions that he helped to ‘dump the bodies
over the side’. I have met CT on about seven occasions,
we have even dined together and I just can’t picture
him doing it. In fact it is extremely hard for me to picture
him carrying a gun. He is a gentle, softly spoken married
man with two teenage children who adore him. When I told
him of this difficulty he looked a bit uncomfortable and
just said that ‘it was the way he needed to be at
the time’. He ended by saying that if all the Ducks
were alive and sitting around the table with us, I wouldn’t
find one that looked as if they were capable of harming
a fly.
The more I know about them the less I understand and I am
supposed to be rather bright about these things.
*
In a few places we have added words that we think Red used.
It has to be understood that this was a few years in the
past and even then the Ducks could not be sure of what they
heard. Not knowing what language it was doesn’t help.
For this reason spelling and phonetic pronunciation cannot
be taken literally.
