大象传媒

Story written up by Karen Rouse-Deane for the 大象传媒 Open Centre Hull.

The decks had been chipped and painted and make-work projects had all been done 鈥� the 鈥楨gyptian鈥� looked reasonably ship-shape. We had all been spending a fair amount off-watch time swimming and diving off the ship. A few sharks had nosed around, but with a watch being kept no-one worried, until one day the Mate really lit into us 鈥� our ignorance of sharks was only equalled by our stupidity, didn鈥檛 we know that an attacking shark came up from under the ship ! We never felt quite the same after that! The Second Mate was actually the instigator of our next big adventure. After a discussion between Mates, a decision was made to lower the 鈥榡olly鈥� boat 鈥� a small dingy on davits near the funnel, often used for general purpose work 鈥� and use it as a swimming platform at slack tide. Rowing the boat a hundred yards away it was figured as being too small to shelter sharks. This possibly worked for we spotted the sharks much more easily and frequently, but the sight of the circling fins of these monsters soon dampened our ardour for swimming and we quit!
A few of us, polished up our rowing skills until the Second Mate pulled out a mast and rigging for a lug-sail. We had the dinghy rigged in no time and for a couple of days, our maroon-coloured sail was an item of interest in the anchorage.
Satisfaction with our handling of the boat, the Second Mate then revealed the 鈥楶lan鈥�. He鈥檚 apparently found out that the three small carcasses brought aboard a week before to fend off the starvation were not goats as we鈥檇 been told, but a type of small jungle deer from up-river. I was greatly relieved for I had believed they were large dogs.
He now proposed and miraculously he鈥檇 got permission for an expedition to find this fresh meat. Planning was hasty and somewhat argumentative but the team was to be made up of four members, number one 鈥� the Second Mate in charge 鈥� Third Sparks(me), the fourth Engineer and one seaman a likeable, young fellow whose enthusiasm for sticking his neck out appealed to us. To justify my inclusion, let me point out that I was the only one with a fair amount of firearms experience (from the R.A.F.).
The first set-back came when the Old Man would only let us take one of the two Lee-Enfield rifles aboard, but as the Second Mate observed, 鈥淚 have my revolver!鈥� I wish I hadn鈥檛 . Provisioning was a problem, however, fruit, a part case of ships biscuits, a dozen salt-pork sandwiches, a container of fresh water and part of a large block of chocolate in heavy foil which I鈥檇 been 鈥榗onned鈥� into buying from the steward 鈥� the weevils tasted just the same as the chocolate. So next day as the tide slacked off we set sail, literally! I had about fifty rounds of 303 cartridges with the rifle and as the last of the ships at anchor fell behind us, the tide picked up with a fair breeze from the South.
About five miles upstream the estuary split into two rivers, both wide and fast, I vaguely remember someone saying 鈥渢he Rockell to the left and the Bunce to the right鈥�. Since the wind was more favourable to port we steered left 鈥� the confluence of both rivers created a very rough section, small whirlpools and rip-eddies pulling in all directions. The river we had chosen rapidly narrowed down to about a half-mile wide. At the far side, some fishermen were standing in small dugouts casting circular nets. We had tried to catch fish from the ship to supplement our diet but with little luck.
The jungle rapidly overwhelmed the riverscape, heavily overgrown at the shoreline with mangroves, but the quiet of our progress gradually lost out to 鈥榡ungle background noise鈥�. The high-pitched cacophony of sound from millions of grasshoppers, cicadas, crickets, peeper frogs and whatever else contributed to that unholy chorus was incredible, then 鈥� as if a master conductor dropped his baton 鈥� dead silence 鈥� quiet as the grave!
Thirty seconds 鈥� forty and just as suddenly, an instantaneous wave of sound erupted as that invisible baton lifted the chorus to full volume again. Four or five minutes later, then again and again this was repeated, spooky and somehow menacing.
A small island appeared ahead; a number of very large black and white birds swooped low directly on course.
鈥淢eat鈥� the Second Mate exclaimed 鈥淧ass the rifle鈥�,
I pointed out that he needed a shot-gun not a service rifle!
鈥淲hatever, pass the damn gun鈥�,
So I did. Five cartridges later, he handed it back saying the sights weren鈥檛 right. Sheer bravado made me reload, aim and fire twice. The birds squawked, but one fell and we headed for it. I didn鈥檛 intend saying so but the bird that fell wasn鈥檛 one I鈥檇 aimed at. It was quite dead but as the engineer pulled it aboard he gagged 鈥淛eez!鈥�. Then the stink hit us, putrid rotten, the smell of decay. It was obviously a vulture of sorts. I wanted a couple of flight feathers for a souvenir but now way could I touch it! We tossed it over the side.
At this point the seaman said 鈥淒o you hear that noise?鈥�, We listened; above the jungle sound came the racket of dogs barking and people shouting.
Rounding the island we saw a village of a dozen or more mud and straw huts centred around a fire with a crowd of natives lining the shore, waving and beckoning us to come ashore. Our bullets must have whistled straight down Main Street 鈥� so we decided to press on.
Progress slackened off as the tide began to turn but the breeze held for a while. An hour or so later as the sun crept down we pulled into a narrow opening in the trees 鈥� hauled the dinghy ashore out of sight, and looked around.
The jungle was dense, the chief obstacle to movement was the tangled mass of mangrove roots and suckers. A little further inland the jungle growth thinned out a little, it was drier, less swampy and whilst still riddled with scores of small holes 鈥� sort of slimy burrows, it looked as if small animal life might be around. The Second Mate鈥檚 nose was twitching and he was casting around for deer tracks like a bloodhound. Caution eventually won out as darkness fell and we decided to make camp for the night. We all carried sheath knives though the seaman鈥檚 looked like and might have been a WW1 bayonet. Branches were cut, we placed the sail across them and our bunks were ready and so were the mosquitoes. They came in hordes 鈥� the prospect of sweet English blood made them crazy 鈥� us too! We had to have a fire 鈥� and smoke! It didn鈥檛 take long to collect some dead wood and in no time we had a roaring fire going and also made a discovery! To make smoke we threw on handfuls of green mangrove leaves and nearly went up in flames; they must be ninety per cent high-octane gasoline. We spent considerable time controlling the flames inside a tight perimeter, even more time shining the torch in efforts to locate the sources of various unsettling noises. Even more disturbing was the fact that every time I turned round, the Second Mate had a rifle pointing at my guts. After hearing the objections he surrendered the rifle but said he preferred his own weapon and pulled out his revolver. At that point the real enemy attacked! In the West Indies can be found beautifully coloured and interesting land-crabs 鈥� delicate creatures not in the least interested in creating a problem. But in West Africa! From out of the slimy holes oozed these large scuttling crustaceans, claws extended, green and mouldy and hungry! The Second Mate reassured us, 鈥渢hey go for the blood smell so don鈥檛 cut yourself!鈥� A little respite was finally obtained by bashing a dozen or so into a sticky heap about twenty feet away and letting them enjoy a cannibalistic feast.
Since there was obviously going to be no sleep for us, we boiled water in the container 鈥� added cocoa powder and sugar and dined in style on salt-pork sandwiches and fruit, with weevil chocolate for dessert!
Next morning, we checked that the boat was still there, it was. So the hunt was on as the swampy mists began to lift. Everyone wanted to carry the rifle so we took it in turns, lined up about twenty feet apart and started to sweep the jungle, calling out periodically as we lost sight of each other in the most overgrown parts. Time passed, until by mid-afternoon we knew for sure that any 鈥榙eer鈥� would have been long gone hours ago. We rested. After a half hour or so, the engineer said, 鈥淟ook I鈥檝e got to get back鈥�, no body disagreed so we started, then stopped.
鈥淲hich way Mr Navigator?鈥�, said the Second Mate,
I said, 鈥淵ours the navigator on this voyage, check the sun鈥�,
鈥淐an鈥檛 see it through the bloody trees鈥�.
A brief worried conference took place, the only thing to emerge from it was that earthbound as we were, we hadn鈥檛 a clue, but that I was less earthbound than the others, hadn鈥檛 I been a flyboy and a navigator to boot, so it was decided. 鈥淲e must find the highest tree in the vicinity and Sparky must climb it!鈥�
We settled on a tall palm of sorts, which disappeared into the canopy. Having seen the natives climb coconut palms it seemed fairly easy, so shedding my shoes I started up with a push from my willing partners. At ten feet my feet and hands felt sore, at twenty feet they were sore, at thirty feet my thighs, belly, arms hands and feet felt raw and I disappeared into the leaves 鈥� another five feet and I could see 鈥� nothing but jungle to the left, right and behind me, but ahead and slightly left was a broken line and a twinkle of water. I shouted down the good news and prepared to descend, but a large green 鈥榝ruit鈥� growing from a nearby branch caught my eye. Like a football 鈥� sized apple, it was 鈥楪arden-of-Eden 鈥� tempting; drooling I reached out for it . The first touch and that 鈥榝ruit鈥� exploded into a mass of giant one-inch ants 鈥� I went down so fast it didn鈥檛 even hurt until later. I did not fall from that tree- it was a controlled but very rapid descent 鈥� why did no-one believe me?
Two hours passed before we located our 鈥榗amp鈥�, recovered the sail and checked out the dinghy. No-one felt hungry, we all felt tired, rather unwell and a decision to head for the ship next morning was unanimous. A light meal of ships biscuits washed down with the remainder of the previous nights鈥� cocoa made the long night even more unpleasant. The rotten smell of crushed crabs as we repeated our earlier tactics, was almost incidental.
It was a dirty, sorry 鈥� looking group that assembled to launch the dinghy at first light.
Setting off early dawn at high water, we figured on five hours or so of favourable flow downstream. The heat was stifling with no wind what so ever, the sail giving occasional shade as it lazily flapped with movement of the dinghy. The area where the rivers joined past the island, was a crazy maelstrom of broken water with much garbage tossed around-it was impossible to steer so we just went with the water. After a quarter-mile of this, we were glad to drift with the current for as long as we could.
Gradually as the sun boiled dead overhead, we realised that the only vessel in the anchorage we could possible reach was the hospital ship. Lowering the sail we grabbed the oars, cutting across the changing tide water, now noticeably flowing against us.
The gangway was down with a platform a couple of feet above sea level. As the dinghy swept past, our seaman, with remarkable agility grabbed for it and held on 鈥� secured with a rope and sat back exhausted!
Hospital ship or not, there was no welcome, no angels of mercy and very little compassion shown as two guards appeared at the top of the ladder accompanied by a matron of sorts. In a sergeant-major鈥檚 voice we were told to 鈥渟hove off, depart, vamoose and generally just get lost鈥�. Eventually we did convince the dragon-lady that if we let go we鈥檇 be swept away. There was absolutely no way we鈥檇 be allowed aboard so we crouched in misery until the tide slacked off sufficiently for us to row back to the 鈥楨gyptian鈥�, never did home look so sweet! To raucous cries of 鈥淲here鈥檚 the meat?鈥� we headed for our bunks and the arms of Morpheus.
Boredom, rifle amongst the crew was alleviated somewhat with the introduction of the nightly 鈥榬oach races鈥�. Some of the tropical cockroaches found aboard ship measured almost two inches in length and moved really fast. The track consisted of six parallel lines of liquid bleach painted across the galley deck, ten feet long.
A line of empty jan-jars acted as the gate and also housed the 鈥榟orses鈥�. Betting was heavy; tiny numbers glued to the back of 鈥榬oaches鈥� backs identified the runners in case they wandered over the lines of bleach, - they rarely did! Entrance fees supplied the prize money, one of the steward鈥檚 few successful enterprises.
Disaster came when the two monkeys now resident aboard, raided the 鈥榮tables鈥� one night. A fat cockroach to a monkey is like a juicy steak to a hungry man. The monkeys belonged to the crew and were 鈥榮ort鈥� of tame, well-cared for, they each sported a tiny belt attached to a long lanyard but half the time they wandered free. I鈥檓 afraid only one survived the long trip home, we did not eat his partner! The ceremony when he went over the side was quite touching.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.