One Night At Sea

By “Daika”

I LEFT Samarai for a trip on a local schooner. A friend, a prospector, myself and the skipper and engin eer were the only Europeans on board.

On the second night out, we made a good anchorage at about 4 p.m., and resolved to remain the night. The skip per and engineer decided to catch up on some sleep, lost the night before.

We saw some sharks about the boat, and, acting on a suggestion from the prospector, I procured a lump of ancient bacon, placed two plugs of dynamite in it, with about four feet of fuse, and threw it overboard.

The sharks nosed round, and then a large one came with a flurry of water and grabbed it. We waited tensely for the result.

There was a terrific explosion almost under the boat. The engine-room tele graph rang madly, as the skipper bounded from his stretcher on the bridge, and grabbed at it. The engineer came from his bed so swiftly that he removed the nail of his little toe.

The voracious shark arrived on top of the water in two pieces, about fifty feet apart, which immediately sank again.

I produced a bottle of whisky, where with to quieten the skipper and engineer, and they were less offensive at the end of an hour, and the first bottle. My friend produced another bottle, and the prospector told of a crocodile he blew up. He said he placed several plugs of explosive in the body of a small pig. The crocodile ate it, and lay on the bank in the sun. Suddenly, it swelled up in the middle like a balloon, and a dull explo sion was heard. The croc, meditated for a while, and then opened its mouth, and a large quantity of smoke came out. It kept blowing out smoke for some time, until it resumed normal size, and then it crawled back into the water.

We decided to finish the second bottle before having kai. The skipper told of a horse his grandmother owned, which was taken by crocodiles. Friend told of a dog on the river bank, howl ing, when a croc, came and lashed it with his tail, and knocked it into the water. The skipper’s grandmother’s horse was not taken by a croc.—it got away and died a natural death. It was a very nice horse to ride.

The prospector told of the time when one of his mates was on a spree, and fell off the wharf. His hat floated away on the tide, but he could not see his mate’s body anywhere. Some natives got a dinghy, and chased the floating hat. and lifted it up, and found his mate underneath it, asleep. He went on to nraise the brand of whisky his mate had been drinking.

An argument started between the engineer and the prospector about the truth of the story, and the prospector offered to show the engineer the spot where it had happened. The engineer looked thoughtful.

The skipper said his grandmother’s horse was a grey one, with a black spot on its forehead. He showed the size of the spot, on a stanchion.

The engineer said a man could not float upright in the water. The pros pector said he could.

I told of a friend of mine who fell into a river and was drowned, after drinking steadily for a week. We found the body through the behaviour of the

fish. They would swim up to a certain spot, and then slowly turn over and wriggle around in the water, get a dull look in their eyes, and drift downstream.

We looked at the spot and found my friend’s body. He had been so pickled that he made the fish drunk.

The skipper said his grandmother’s horse got drunk once at a brewery. It lay asleep in the yard, all night, and when it woke in the morning it went to the river and held its head under water until it nearly drowned. I asked him if that was the time the crocodile got it, and he denied that any croco dile ever got near his grandmother’s horse. I started to remind him of his previous remarks, when a loud splash was heard.

The engineer had decided to demon strate his theory of floating. The crew boys rushed round, and hauled him out of the water. He looked very sick. We gave him some whisky, and he went into a coma. Friend and prospector de cided to use artificial respiration, but the engineer gave a loud groan and was suddenly very sick. The boys took him away to bed.

The skipper tried to show us the scar where his grandmother’s horse kicked him, but found it so beyond him that he sat on the deck and went to sleep.

We had another drink and the pros pector went to his cabin and came back with some meat and biscuits. While we were eating he told us of the time he and some others were going to Samarai in a launch.

They had had a merry leave-taking, and all slept until nearly daylight. The

first to awake, awakened the others; and, while they were discussing the size and aches of their respective heads, a rooster crowed. They all hushed; and in a few moments it crowed again.

They rushed on deck and gazed about them. It was very dark, and the boy at the tiller was half-asleep. Suddenly, the rooster crowed again, from dead ahead, and not far away. They grabbed the tiller and turned the boat round, and awakened the other boys on deck, while looking out for the land. One went below and slowed the engine down.

A boy went up to the bow of the launch, and lifted a box, and brought out a rooster, tied by the leg. The rooster crowed once more—and the pros pector and party went back below, for getting to turn the boat round again.

They ran back for an hour before the sunrise showed them their error.

We decided to go to bed, after this.

My friend went first to the cabin. A terrific crash was heard, and the boys presently reported my friend had tried to go to bed on the table set for our kai. I decided to sleep on deck, in a chair.

I have just seen the sun rise over the small island. It crept slowly up on the world from behind the fringing coconuts, outlining each swaying leaf in turn. Birds began calling and flying along the beach. Fish are jumping all round the boat, in their welcome to a new day.

The deck of the boat is an awful mess.

I do not, feel too good. Think I must have eaten too much of the skipper’s grandmother’s horse.