Daddy’s Great Escape: sample chapters

SWIMMING FOR HIS LIFE

A TATTOOED arm reached down from the back of the boat. ‘Give me your hand, you stupid surfer.’

Ralph was hauled up and dumped face down on the deck.

He spat out a mouthful of sea-water on the black rubber matting, and gasped. ‘Am I glad you came along.’

‘What were you even thinking?’ the voice above him snapped. ‘You should know better at your age! You’re more likely to be ripped apart by a White Pointer than catch a good wave in this bay.’

When Ralph lifted his head, the first thing he saw was the gruff man’s yellow rubber boots.

When he rolled over, he saw lots of cray pots, nets and hooks. Then he spied a wheelbarrow further up the fishing boat.

The tattooed man’s yellowness didn’t end with his rubber boots. He was wearing yellow rubber trousers that went all the way to his armpits. He had muscular arms like Popeye, but they were much more heavily tattooed than simple anchors.

Water dripped from Ralph’s clothes as he got on to his knees. As he staggered to his feet, the whistle around his neck swung and glinted in the sun before flopping back on to the front of his soggy red-and-black striped shirt. The man facing him had the beginnings of a beard, and he reeked of fish.

Ralph pointed to the shore, which was getting smaller. ‘I’m not a bloody surfer! Can’t you see I’m a referee? I was chased into the bay by a mob who were unhappy with one of my decisions.’ He pointed with a trembling finger. ‘If I hadn’t swum from the soccer field at the edge of the bay there, I’d probably be dead now.’

The boat was leaving the shelter of the bay. The wind was freshening and waves were becoming bigger. Ralph grabbed a rail as the boat rocked and rolled.

Popeye stooped down and picked up a towel, which he threw at Ralph so he could dab his face dry. Ralph should have looked at it first though. Dried fish entrails taste terrible and the taste just gets worse as they rehydrate. He clenched his eyes shut and made a raspberry sound as he blew through his lips.

The shock of his hand being gripped made him open his eyes and remove the towel from his line of vision.

Popeye smiled as he squeezed Ralph’s hand like it was some kind of pain-threshold test, and he shouted above the wind and the chug of the engine. ‘You’ll get used to swallowing a few fish guts. I’m Davy.’

‘Ralph.’ He was glad when his hand was released, and he saw he still had all his fingers.

Davy was about his age (the wrong side of thirty) and height (only two or three inches short of six foot) but with hands the size of buckets.

‘You’re come aboard The Good Lady.’Davy began to laugh. ‘The skipper’s wife thinks he named this tub after her.’

‘I won’t tell her otherwise. If you just take me back to shore, I’ll be on my way.’ When he saw that Davy’s facial expression had turned dark again, Ralph added hastily: ‘Of course, I’ll pay you for your troubles.’

Davy spat over the side. ‘It ain’t up to me. I’m just the lead deckhand on this trawler. You’ll have to talk to the skipper.’

Davy pointed to a raised cabin. ‘You’ll find Hendrik in the wheelhouse, but I’ve never known him to go back so soon. We usually only return when we have a full load of fish in the hold.’

‘How long does that take?’

‘Depends. Could be as much as two or three weeks.’

‘I can’t wait that long!’ Ralph cried. ‘People will be worried about me.’

Davy spat again. This time his green phlegm teetered on the top of the rail. Ralph didn’t have to stare at it for long because a wave crashed up and swept it away.

Davy shrugged. ‘Hendrik has a two-way radio in the wheelhouse, which means he can tell the authorities on shore you’re safe. Sooner or later he’s going to have to do the same for our two other hitchhikers.’

Ralph stretched his eyes wide: ‘You mean I’m not the only one?’

2. YOU’RE NOT FROM AROUND HERE?

AS RALPH squelched his way to the wheelhouse, he rehearsed in his head what he was going to say.

The first clue that something funny was going on was when he spotted Hendrik’s grinning face as he approached the wheelhouse door.

The skipper opened the door and motioned for Ralph to come in.

The engine was labouring away, but it was quieter in this cramped space though it stank of fish and diesel.

The skipper was a large man in his mid-40s with a leathery face. He looked down at Ralph’s outfit and laughed. ‘The hoodlums have been at it again, haven’t they?’

Ralph took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. ‘You’re not surprised you haven’t picked up a surfer?’

Hendrik continued grinning as he steered into the white caps. ‘I just don’t know why they don’t build a big net at the end of the ground?’

‘This has happened before?’

‘It happens almost every year. If the supporters don’t like how the grand final is going for their team, they just remove the goals at one end and chase the referees into the bay.’

Ralph was speechless. He looked down at his black running shoes and saw one of them had got also picked up a stowaway: a small string of green seaweed.

‘Let me guess?’ the skipper said. ‘You’re not from around here? They never are.’

Ralph nodded. He worked far down the New South Wales coast but running the line on a soccer field was his way of forgetting the pressures of his real job. Little had he known what was ahead of him when he was told he had been selected to officiate in the final at a little town he barely knew existed.

But the selectors knew! If it happened like this every year, of course they had to know. What did that make him? Expendable?

‘You need to take me back,’ Ralph said. ‘I’m expected to cover the mayor‘s birthday party tonight.’

‘Mayor Jim Jones? He had his birthday weeks ago.’

‘No, not your mayor, our mayor down the coast. His 50th.’

Hendrik frowned.

‘I’m a newspaper reporter. Ralph Whistler. I can’t possibly be out here for two or three weeks.’

Hendrik laughed again. ‘Who told you we‘d be out that long?’

‘Your deckhand did.’

‘He must have misheard me.’ Hendrik blasted him with a sigh of exhaled air. ‘If it wasn’t for me getting people to help him, I don’t know how we’d ever catch anything. He’s more of a dickhead than a deckhand!’

‘So he’s wrong?’

‘He never listens. My missus says she doesn’t want to see us back for at least six weeks. And she says not to come back at all unless we bring home a couple of crays for Christmas. She makes the best crayfish pasta.’

3. BUT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND

RALPH SUDDENLY realised that missing the mayor’s birthday party was the least of his worries.

It was November 11. His first-born child was due to arrive on December 25 and he had been in training to be in the birthing suite to hold his wife’s hand.

Ralph rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. ‘Six weeks! I’ll miss the birth of my daughter!’

Hendrik didn’t even turn. Ralph was not sure what he thought the boat might run into. All he could see ahead was water. ‘When?’ Hendrik said.

‘She’s due on Christmas Day.’

The skipper kept looking straight ahead and spoke in a deadpan voice. ‘How can you possibly know what date the baby will come?’

’Maria’s doctor calculated it.’

‘And you even know it’s going to be a girl!’ Hendrik’s face formed a smirk. ‘Tell me another one!’

‘It’s true. They can tell these days from the ultrasound.’

The skipper glanced down at the control panel. ‘Technology! Figures. I wouldn’t have believed years ago the equipment we’ve got today to help us find where the fish are.’

‘So you’ll turn round?’

‘I’m sure your little lady will be fine without you. All my kids were born when I was at sea. It helps our women-folk to become resilient, and the benefits for us blokes are immense.’ He prodded his chest. ‘Five kids, and I never had to change one nappy! Not many men can say that!’

‘But you don’t understand. Maria will be worried.’

‘Won’t her mother be there to help?’

‘Maria‘s mother lives in Portugal!’

Hendrik turned and squeezed Ralph’s shoulder. ‘I’m sure your little lady will be all right. You’ve got other female friends, right?’

Ralph pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘If it’s about money, I’m happy to pay for the inconvenience of taking me back to port.’

Hendrik stared straight ahead again and gave him a deadpan answer. ‘It’s not about the money.’

‘Is it about the crayfish? I’d happily buy your wife a couple of those.’

He turned around and glared at Ralph as if he were offended.

‘What then? What do I have to do for you to take me back?’

He looked ahead again. ‘Nothing you can do.’

‘But Maria will be worried, and I have work commitments.’ Ralph suddenly remembered he had parked his car in a pay zone. ‘If my car is still parked outside the soccer ground on Monday morning, it’s likely to get towed away.’

Hendrik shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that. I’m the only tow-truck driver in town.’

‘But you’re a fisherman!’

‘Only during the fishing season. For the rest of the time I’m a tow-truck driver. Anyway, if I were you, I’d be more worried about what those soccer hooligans are doing to your car right now. The traffic wardens can hardly fine you if the ratbags have pinched the wheels and torched the rest.’

‘See why you have to take me back?’ Ralph said. ‘I beg you.’

Hendrik’s voice became loud and angry. ‘You don’t understand, do you? Do you really think it was just dumb luck that we picked you up?’

Ralph felt the blood drain from his face. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I told you. This happens nearly every grand final day. If I get the timing right, you can bet your bottom dollar that I can pick up a prospective deckhand on the way out of port.’

Ralph had had enough. He put the whistle into his mouth and blew it as loudly as he could. The sound ricochetted around the metal and glass walls.

Hendrik covered his ears with his hands. When the noise was over, he pointed a finger at Ralph. ‘Do that again, and we’ll be tossing that whistle overboard with you attached!’

‘How else am I supposed to get the message across that I’m a linesman, not a deckhand?’

Hendrik shrugged. ‘Do you know how hard it is to find deckhands these days?’ He nodded towards Davy who was now stacking cray pots badly on the other side of the window. ‘See what I have to put up with? His mother must have dropped him on his head when he was a baby.’

‘Davy told me you already had two other blokes aboard.’

‘Yes, but goodness knows what condition they’ll be in when they wake up and realise they‘re surrounded by water. They‘d have no memory of even leaving the pub last night.’

‘It must be nearly 4pm. Wouldn’t they be awake by now?’

‘With the mickey I slipped them?’ He glared at Ralph. ‘And don’t go getting any ideas about trying to wake them! I don’t want any land in sight when they surface.’

‘Won’t the two of them be enough? Surely you don’t want the crew tripping over each other.’

Hendrik looked ahead again. ‘I know one of them knows his way around a boat, but the other bloke didn’t look much like a fishermen last night.’

‘What am I? Some kind of insurance?’

The skipper sounded exasperated. ‘If this turns out to be a good trip, what I pay you will be more than enough to cover the board and keep I’ll charge you.’

4. RATTLING THE SWEAR JAR