Something Fishy

by Derek Hansen

  ‘He’s your responsibility,’ said Jack.‘Up to you to sort him.’

  ‘Gee, thanks,’ said Big Barry. He would have killed for a scotch, though in truth he needed a whole bottle. His spirits sank as one of the fishermen from the other group made a beeline towards him as soon as Jack moved off.

  ‘G’day,’ said the fisherman.‘I’m Grant.’

  ‘Anything to do with Grant’s Whisky?’ said Big Barry.

  ‘No, unfortunately.’

  ‘Pity,’ said Big Barry. He introduced himself and shook hands.‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘That mate of yours,’ said Grant. ‘We were having a good time until he decided to honour us with his presence.’

  ‘Know the feeling,’ said Big Barry sympathetically.

  ‘Is he always like that?’

  ‘As far as I know.’

  ‘We’ve got Shirley, she’s the one at the end of the table. She’s got a voice that makes an angle grinder sound like easy listening, but she’s nothing compared to your mate. Hasn’t he got anything good to say about anything?’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ said Big Barry.

  ‘Can’t you do something about him?’ asked Grant.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. He’s your responsibility not mine.’

  ‘Gee, thanks,’ said Big Barry.

  Big Barry’s mood improved markedly over dinner. He loved his food and appreciated food done well. Good food had a way of taking his mind off things it didn’t particularly want to deal with.

  ‘You know,’ he said,‘I think these mangrove jack taste even better than the fingermark.’

  ‘Got me,’ said Yanni.‘Mick and I had a look in the kitchen. They’ve got gas cylinders but, even so, the conditions are hardly ideal. I think the cook’s a bloody genius to do as well as he does. I’ve had mangrove jack before but I’m not sure I’ve ever had better.’

  ‘It’s exquisite,’ said Carlton.‘Especially with the lime butter sauce.’

  ‘I’ll pass your comments on to the cook,’ said Jack.

  ‘You guys are too easily pleased,’ said Neville. He pushed his dinner away half-eaten.

  ‘What now?’ said Jack.

  ‘What lives in water drowns in sauce,’ said Neville. ‘You should pass that on to the cook as well.’

  ‘No beer, no wine, no whisky,’ said Neville as they sat around over coffee. ‘No conversation worth staying up for either. Think I’ll go to bed and read.’

  ‘You do that,’ said Big Barry.

  The boys waited in silence until the light went on in Neville’s tent.

  ‘I can’t take five more days of this,’ said Big Barry. ‘This isn’t how I planned things.’

  ‘We’ve all had as much of him as we can take,’ chipped in Jack.

  ‘Muzza was sensational today,’ said Big Barry. ‘No offence to you, Jack, but your mate was really hot. He found us fish, good fish, everywhere we went but it still wasn’t good enough for Neville. According to the Peppermint Pom, your six-metre boats are no good. They only use three-point-three-metre boats in Buckingham Bay, and they can get closer in to the shore, fish further up the gutters, get in under the mangroves. You know, we caught ninety-two fish all told and the bugger still wasn’t happy.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, why not?’ said Mick.

  ‘Only eight were worth counting, only eight were worth photographing, only eight were over ten kilos. Of course we would have caught more in the afternoon but the Gelspun cut through his trace. He had to tie a new bimini twist, a new Albright and a new perfection loop. Lost good fishing time.’

  ‘Doesn’t he ever let up?’ asked Grant who’d wandered over from his table.‘Even Shirley shuts down from time to time.’

  ‘No,’ said Big Barry. ‘He’s like rust. He never lets up. Not for one second.’

  ‘Jack, what do you do when you get a customer like him?’ asked Yanni.‘You must have some way of dealing with blokes like Neville otherwise you’d go mad.’

  ‘He’s a tough one,’ said Jack. ‘But there’s a trick we’ve pulled in the past. Might get rid of him.’

  The boys listened carefully as Jack explained what they had to do. They started to grin and finally to laugh. They suddenly felt good. This was how they were supposed to feel. This was the way all their other trips had been.

  ‘Nice to see you taking your responsibilities seriously,’ said Grant.

  ‘You feel all right,’ said Mick to Neville as they got up for breakfast.

  ‘Terrific. Why?’

  ‘Just look a bit pale,’ said Mick.

  ‘Pale?’ said Neville.

  ‘Yeah, like one of your peppermints.’

  ‘I feel okay,’ said Neville.

  ‘What happened to you?’ said Big Barry as Neville sat down to breakfast.

  ‘Nothing. Why?’ said Neville.

  ‘You don’t look well,’ said Big Barry.

  ‘Looked okay in the bathroom mirror,’ said Neville.

  ‘Morning, everyone,’ said Yanni. He turned to Neville. ‘Jesus! What have you done?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Neville.

  ‘You look like a candidate for a cremation,’ said Yanni.

  ‘That’s what I said,’ said Big Barry.‘He doesn’t look good.’

  ‘Something might have bitten you,’ said Jack. ‘There are some pretty strange things up here. Do you feel light-headed?’

  ‘Look, I know what you’re doing,’ said Neville.‘It’s a game you play up here, right?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Carlton.

  ‘It’s a stupid game to make me think I’m sick so that I fly back to Darwin Hospital. You get a laugh, the doctors and nurses get a laugh, and I waste three days trying to get a plane back here. The blokes tried it on in Buckingham Bay and in the Arafura Swamp.’

  ‘I bet they did,’ said Big Barry miserably.

  Once again Neville’s boat was last in.

  ‘How’d you go?’ asked Carlton.

  ‘Terrible,’ said Neville. ‘Waste of time, waste of money, waste of a whole bloody day. Guide couldn’t find his own dick in daylight. Hell, he couldn’t find it if it was on a piece of string.’

  ‘How many did you catch?’ asked Graham.

  ‘Eleven,’ said Neville.

  ‘Eleven over ten kilos?’ said Mick. He’d had another great day with Big Barry. They’d caught over forty.

  ‘None over ten kilos,’ said Neville. ‘Not one.’ He stormed off to the showers.

  The boys turned to Yanni.

  ‘What happened?’ said Big Barry.

  ‘Tell them,’ said Yanni, turning to Peter who had been their reluctant guide for the day.

  ‘I thought to hell with him,’ said Peter. ‘The bugger’s making everybody’s life a misery so I thought I’d turn the tables and really give him something to complain about. Big mistake. I took him among the snags. He lost a dozen lures including his pink Mann Stretch 20.’

  ‘It was his favourite lure,’ cut in Yanni.‘The one he caught most of his fish on. Mann doesn’t make that pattern any more.’

  ‘Jesus,’ said Carlton.‘Does he have a Classic Barra?’

  ‘Lost that as well,’ said Peter.

  ‘What did he do?’ said Mick.

  ‘You’d think I’d stolen his wife and barbecued his babies,’ said Peter.‘He never let up. I couldn’t catch a cold. I couldn’t find a fish in a fish shop window. I couldn’t find my arse with both hands.’

  ‘He said that?’ said Big Barry.

  ‘That,’ said Peter, ‘was just for starters. Halfway through I decided to give up and put the bugger onto as many fish as I could. But it was too late. He’d got to me and by then I couldn’t take a trick. I took him to the wrong places at the wrong time. Made a total hash of it. Better tie me up, fellas, before I do something stupid and make a widow of my wife.’

  ‘That,’ said Big Barry, ‘has to be the best mud crab I’ve ever eaten.’ He pushed his plate to the side
and sighed with satisfaction. The pile of empty crab shell was testimony to his enjoyment.

  ‘Got me,’ said Yanni.‘Just the right amount of black bean and just enough chilli to lift rather than overwhelm the flavour.’

  ‘Exquisite,’ said Carlton. ‘A delicate balance for a delicate flavour.’

  ‘I’ll pass your comments on to the cook,’ said Jack. ‘He’s proud of his crab.’

  ‘You guys have got to be kidding,’ said Neville.‘Obviously you’ve never had chilli crab in Singapore. Compared to Singapore chilli crab this is as bland as baby food.’

  ‘Baby food?’ said Jack.‘Baby food?’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Neville,’ said Carlton, as the boys cringed with embarrassment.

  ‘I call things as I see them,’ said Neville defiantly. ‘Baby food is baby food.’

  ‘Right,’ said Jack.‘I’ll pass that on to the cook as well.’

  They were relieved when Neville again excused himself barely half an hour after dinner and went to bed.

  ‘What did you blokes do to deserve him?’ said Grant. He brought a few of his mates over to join the boys around their table.

  ‘More to the point, what are we going to do about him?’ said Carlton.‘We’ve got to do something.’

  ‘I suppose murder is frowned upon up here?’ said Graham.

  ‘Afraid so,’ said Jack.‘Though if you did want to commit a murder, up here’s the perfect place to do it.’

  ‘We found a four-and-a-half-metre saltwater croc sitting on its nest,’ said Grant helpfully. ‘Put the Peppermint Pom ashore there and they’ll never find him. Croc would have him in a hole under the riverbank in five minutes.’

  ‘Bit rough on the croc,’ said Big Barry. The boys laughed.

  ‘I know where there are some wild pigs cut off by the floods,’ said Jack.‘We could nick the bugger a couple of times with the fishing knife, get him bleeding nicely, then put him ashore there. There wouldn’t even be a smell of him left once the pigs had finished with him.’

  ‘We could stake him out and let the mud crabs have him,’ said Yanni.‘Apparently they go for the genitals first.’

  ‘Bones,’ said Muzza.‘Crabs leave the bones.’

  ‘Plenty of sharks down at the rivermouth,’ said Jack.‘They don’t leave no bones.’

  ‘What about snakes?’ said Carlton.

  ‘Don’t see a lot of them,’ said Peter. ‘When you do, you wish you hadn’t. Taipans and king browns don’t scare easily.’

  ‘What about malaria and dengue fever?’ said Big Barry.

  ‘Both rare,’ said Jack.‘And too slow.’

  ‘Don’t want anything slow,’ said Graham. ‘I vote we go with the four-and-a-half-metre croc.’

  His mates burst out laughing.

  ‘I’m not joking,’ he said.

  ‘I’m serious.

  ‘I’ve got him tomorrow.’

  The boys laughed even harder. But their laughter choked off the instant Neville burst in on them, wild-eyed and dishevelled.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ said Big Barry.

  ‘I’ve been robbed!’ said Neville. ‘Some bastard’s been rifling through my things.’ He was almost sobbing.

  Jack leaped to his feet.

  ‘You’re kidding. We’ve never had any robberies here. What’s missing?’

  Neville hesitated, clenching and unclenching his fists impotently.

  ‘Well?’ said Jack.

  ‘My Powerade!’ said Neville. ‘Someone’s stolen my Powerade.’

  ‘Your Powerade?’ said Jack. ‘Who the hell would want your Powerade?’

  Carlton started laughing.

  ‘It’s no laughing matter,’ snapped Neville, but by then the boys were struggling to contain themselves.

  ‘Could be worse,’ said Carlton. ‘They might have taken your peppermints as well.’

  ‘Wake up, wake up!’ said Mick. He shook Neville’s shoulder until he opened his eyes.‘So you finally nodded off?You kept me awake half the night with your tossing and turning.’

  ‘Wha . . . ?’ said Neville.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Mick.‘It’s time for breakfast.’

  ‘Breakfast?’

  ‘Yeah, breakfast,’ said Mick impatiently. ‘You know, where the cook you don’t like fries eggs you don’t like with bacon you don’t like.’

  ‘Wha . . . ?’ said Neville again. He tried to sit up but fell back on his pillow.

  ‘Jesus!’ said Mick.‘Hell’s the matter with you?’

  Neville swung his feet to the ground and sat up rubbing his eyes.

  ‘You okay?’ said Mick, suddenly concerned. ‘You look terrible.’

  ‘Don’t start that again,’ said Neville weakly.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Yanni as Neville sat down for breakfast. Everyone else had just about finished.‘If I didn’t know better I’d say you were hungover.’

  ‘As if,’ said Neville. He knocked his knife onto the ground.

  ‘You look like the brother of one of those crabs we had last night has made a home in your undies,’ said Carlton. He reached over and picked up Neville’s knife. ‘I’ve never seen anyone more fidgety.’

  ‘You guys don’t give in, do you?’ said Neville. His lips curled in a snarl.

  ‘Mate, I’m serious,’ said Carlton.‘You look like you’ve got the rigours. If I looked like you I’d check to see if I still had a pulse.’

  Neville ignored him, trying hard to suppress a shiver.

  The cook dropped a plate of fried eggs and bacon in front of him and a steaming mug of coffee. Neville couldn’t hide the shaking of his hands as he tried to take a sip. Hot coffee splashed over the sides and burned his fingers.

  ‘Shit!’ he said.

  ‘Do you want to give fishing a miss today?’ asked Yanni.

  ‘The only thing wrong with me,’ said Neville icily, ‘is the company I keep.’

  By the time Neville met up with Graham at the boat the others were long gone.

  ‘You took your bloody time,’ said Graham.

  ‘Had to re-rig,’ said Neville.‘My hands don’t seem to want to work this morning.’

  ‘When you two ladies have finished we’ll go fishing,’ said Jack impatiently. ‘I thought we’d go up the creek at Three Ways. All right with you, Neville?’

  ‘Three Ways, Four Ways, Five Way . . . who cares?’

  Both Jack and Graham stared at him.

  ‘Most people up here fish for barra,’ said Jack cuttingly. ‘You’re the first bloke I’ve ever seen cast to a jabiru.’The big black-and-white stork scrabbled away as fast as its long pillar-box red legs could carry it.

  ‘You might catch more fish if you got your lure in the water occasionally,’ said Graham. They’d spent half the morning retrieving Neville’s lures from the branches of mangroves, pandanus and paperbarks. ‘I thought you were supposed to be good.’

  ‘I am good,’ said Neville grimly.‘I’m just not myself today.’

  ‘I’ve seen filleted fingermark bream that look better than you do,’ said Jack.‘You sure you don’t want me to take you back?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Neville.

  Neville hooked up on a barra pushing eight kilos but played it so ineptly it soon threw the lure.

  ‘If that’s the best you can do, you better go back to using barbed hooks,’ said Graham.

  ‘Or dynamite,’ said Jack.

  Neville pretended to ignore them as he cast again.

  ‘Maybe you’ve got a peppermint deficiency,’ said Graham. ‘Maybe you’re in withdrawal. I notice you haven’t been sucking them today.’

  ‘No need,’ mumbled Neville. He worked harder on his next fish, a nine-kilo fighter, and managed to net it. He lifted it free of the net with his Bogagrips as he’d done hundreds of times before.

  ‘Watch it!’ cried Jack.

  ‘Oh shit!’ cried Neville.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ cried Graham.

  Neville stood over his barra, which had tumbled free of the Bogagrip
s onto the bottom of the boat. The barra, which had left the water a brilliant metallic silver, was now red with his blood.

  ‘What are you doing back?’ said Big Barry as he and Carlton pulled into shore.

  ‘Mission of mercy,’ said Graham. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

  ‘What mission of mercy?’ said Big Barry.

  ‘Facilitating the absence of friends,’ said Graham.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ said Carlton. ‘Where’s the Peppermint Pom?’

  ‘Darwin,’ said Graham. ‘Getting his hands sewn back together.’

  ‘You’re kidding!’ whooped Big Barry.‘What happened?’

  ‘Wait till the others come back,’ said Graham. ‘I’ll tell you all over dinner.’

  ‘He had the Bogagrips in the barra’s jaw and he still dropped it?’ said Big Barry incredulously.

  ‘Like a hot brick,’ said Graham. ‘By the way, this is the offending barra that we’re eating.’

  ‘Best I’ve ever tasted,’ said Big Barry.

  ‘Got me,’ said Yanni.

  ‘Exquisite,’ said Carlton. ‘And for once I don’t think we’ll give the cook all the credit. Should have taken a cast off it in honour of the favour it did us.’

  ‘He would have been all right but the stupid bugger tried to grab the barra as it fell,’ said Graham. ‘Couldn’t believe it. The gill case slashed his fingers to the bone.’

  ‘They would,’ said Big Barry. ‘But he knows his way around barramundi. He knows how sharp the gill case is.’

  ‘He was on another planet,’ said Graham. ‘Away with the pixies. Had no coordination at all. We offered to bring him back a couple of times.’

  ‘What do you reckon was wrong with him?’ asked Big Barry.‘He didn’t look good.’

  ‘Dunno,’ said Jack. ‘Maybe something bit him. What do you reckon, Muzza?’

  ‘Could be anything,’ said Muzza.

  ‘They’ll probably do tests and find out at the hospital,’ said Mick as the cook came to clear away their plates.

  ‘They won’t do any tests,’ said the cook. ‘Up here people like him are a dime a dozen. There’s no secret to what he needs.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Big Barry.

  ‘Think about it. He wouldn’t share his Powerade. He sucked peppermints all day. He disappeared straight after dinner.’

  ‘You’re not serious?’ said Carlton.