Laughs, Corpses... and a Little Romance Read online

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  One thing I enjoy about my job is chatting to a constant stream of passengers. The tourists we get are a pretty mixed bunch, a lot are Australians of course, but quite a few come from other parts of the world. On this trip there was an American couple. Most Americans are charming and friendly people, but occasionally you get one who wants to let you know in a loud voice that everything ‘over here’ is obviously inferior to everything in the US of A. We had such a one on this trip, a stocky, aggressive man wearing a loud tartan suit, and after a while he started to get under my skin. On the way back to the harbour we passed back under the long railway bridge that strides across the river with a one kilometer chain of steel arches. “Why does that bridge have all those extra piers beside it?” the loud American asked. “Well you see, when the government decided to build the bridge in 1883 the contract was won by an American company." "Yes I can see that, a fine piece of American engineering too." "Ah no, you see, the bottom of the river is covered in a very deep layer of sand and mud and they didn’t sink their piers in deep enough, and after several floods their bridge started to fall over. By the nineteen forties it got so unsafe Australian engineers had to build a new bridge alongside the old one, with piers sunk down much deeper. Those old piers are all that’s left of the American bridge.” Some of the other passengers tried not to a smile and had to turn their faces away. I felt a bit ashamed of myself afterwards, but he had asked, and at least he kept his voice down for the rest of the trip.

  There’s a fellow lives on the Island called Norman Bransky, and before our next ferry run he came along the wharf leading a large chestnut horse by its halter. “G’day Norm,” I said, “going for a ride somewhere?” “No Ted, I want to take this horse over to the Island.” “You mean you want us to take your horse across on Annabelle?” “Yeh, you can do that can’t you ?” “Well we’ve taken dogs and cats and chickens and rabbits and parrots and even pigs, but we’ve never taken anything as big as a horse before.” “He’s a very quiet animal. He shouldn’t be any trouble.” I paused. “Well let’s see now, I’ll have to charge you fifty dollars freight.” “Thirty.” “Uh, all right then, forty and that’s final. Are you sure horses are allowed on the Island?” “Well the regulations say no private cars are allowed, but they don’t say anything about horses. I’m going to keep him in my back yard and ride him round the Island or down to the store.” “What if he drops manure on the road?” “Oh don’t worry about that! There’s plenty of keen gardeners will shovel it up and put it on their gardens.”

  “Do you think we can get him aboard along the gangplank?” “No need, just take out a piece of the handrail and he’ll step across onto the deck, no worries.” I told Tim and Jack to unbolt a section of forward handrail, so we could get the animal onto the foredeck. I couldn’t allow him into the passenger section, it was too dangerous to mix passengers with a horse that might behave, or might not. Tim and Norm tried to pull the horse across onto Annabelle. He didn’t seem too willing to step across the gap from the wharf so Jack went to push from behind. “Don’t get behind him Jack, he might kick you.” My warning came only just in time, as a large hoof just grazed Jack’s leg, giving him a hell of a fright. “Fucking animal, I was a bit too quick for you wasn’t I?" "Watch your language Jack if you don’t mind! You know I don’t like you using that word.”

  Eventually Jack and Tim got the horse tethered in front of the wheelhouse and after he’d settled down we headed off down the harbour. “Better get your broom out Tim, in case he craps on the deck.” said Jack. We were going down the harbour into a light headwind, and the wheelhouse filled with a terrible smell of ammonia etc. coming from the horse’s rear end. I was very relieved when we turned across the river and picked up a crosswind. I never knew before how smelly a horse could be. “Where d’you get him?” I asked Norm. “From a riding school." "Well he’ll probably be pretty stubborn then. I’ve heard they get that way when they’ve been ridden by lots of learners.”

  At the Island Tim and Jack unbolted the handrail again, and the horse seemed very pleased to step across onto the jetty and get back on solid ground again. “That’s good”, said Norm, “Here you are Jack, here’s your thirty bucks.” “Dad said forty dollars for the horse, and don’t forget there’s also five for yourself. That’s forty-five bucks altogether.” “Bloody robbers.” “Come off it Norm, we’ve all got to make a living." "I think I’ll ride him bareback round to the house, like an Indian chief.” He jumped up onto the horse’s back. The horse promptly bucked and threw him off onto the ground, then took off at a fast trot along the jetty past the store, with Tim chasing after it. Jack burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help smiling too. Norm got up, dusting himself off and using some very vulgar words to describe the horse. “Looks like you got yourself a handful there, Big Chief Sitting Bull” called out Jack. “I suppose you think that’s very funny”, said Norm. He limped off along the jetty after his horse. It didn’t help when he saw Jim Henty, the Island storekeeper, leaning against his doorpost, almost crying with laughter. “Geez Norm, that was the best circus act I’ve seen all week!”