Washy and the Crocodile (12 page)

So they all settled down, under her direction, to make the caravan into a home.

***

“I'm awfully tired,” complained Evie. They were out in a gig in Pengelly bay, and it wasn't at all what she had expected!

The bay was very large, and so were the waves, and every time one of them lifted the boat and slid it around like a giant playing with his toy boat in a gigantic bath, then Evie felt most peculiar. Not sick, you understand; just... peculiar, and as if she couldn't wait to be on dry land again.

She thought about her other ambition, which had been to join the Navy; and her ambitions wavered. Perhaps she wouldn't join the Wrens after all, although she still liked the uniform. But hang on! If she combined her ambitions and became a naval psychiatrist, she wouldn't have to go to sea at all! She could stay on shore and counsel the ratings. Evie liked the idea of being a counsellor. It sounded a nice, safe job, with lots of prospects; and your office would never slide around under your feet and make you feel most peculiar. Besides, she liked the idea of being saluted by all those ratings, in her smart uniform with just a touch of femininity. Evie was a very firm little girl, who had never underestimated her own importance.

“I'm not tired at all,” said Jack robustly. It wasn't true, of course. His arms were aching like mad, and his oar was awfully long, and although they had put the foot-rest in the bottom of the boat as close to his seat as possible, he still couldn't really press his feet against it when he rowed, because he just wasn't tall enough: but he certainly wasn't going to mention any of that!

Jack could be a very proud little boy, and he was very, very proud of being a proper member of the crew of a real Cornish pilot gig, that had once been used for racing out to a passing sailing ship and landing a pilot (having beaten all the other crews in a desperate race from every port within 25 miles) and then rowing back triumphantly to its home port and being admired by everyone, while the pilot piloted the great sailing ship all the way up the Bristol Channel and safely past Lundy Island and all the way to Bristol.

Cornish pilot gigs were wonderful, but they were very heavy, and they only had a few rowers and a cox, and every one of those rowers had to pull his weight.

Jack knew. He was one of those rowers; and he didn't weigh very much. But he could still pull. Even if he were developing blisters, and his shoulders hurt, and his thighs hurt, and he was really having to concentrate as he had never had to do so before, to keep in time with the rest of the crew. Rowing, he reflected, was jolly hard work, and not as romantic as he had supposed.

Otto glanced over his shoulder at him, and smiled. Jack was looking very tired, but he would never admit it. It was time for a diversion.

“Did I ever tell you,” said Uncle Otto, “how I first met Washy?”

“If you did, we certainly don't remember,” said Evie excitedly. She really loved his stories about Washy: and she was sure she had never heard this one. She had always assumed that they knew each other for ever, somehow. but that was silly, wasn't it? Very silly. So Evie smiled at Uncle Otto with a lovely, generous, heart-warming smile, and Mummy smiled to see her daughter smile, and Otto spat on his hands (after all, he couldn't tell a proper story without spitting on his hands first, could he?) and prepared to begin.

Perhaps, thought Evie, with her new insight as a naval psychiatrist, Uncle Otto was tired of rowing.

The only person in the boat who seemed to be capable of rowing tirelessly was Malachy MacNamara, who was pulling as strongly as ever; but even the huge Irishman could do with a little rest. Besides, he looked interested in the idea of a story, she thought, although it was difficult to see his expression through the shaggy mass of hair.

So Uncle Otto stowed his oar, and indicated to Annie, who had been steering, that she could safely let the gig drift in the current for a little while, and not worry about being swept out to sea and be the cause of an international rescue mission; and this is how he told the story.

“I was living in Australia,” said Otto, keeping an eye on the horizon, “and I met up with your father.”

Annie forgot altogether about steering, and Jack and Evie drew in their breath. Their father! This would be really interesting. They didn't actually know very much about their father, and they felt rather at a loss at school when the other children told stories about theirs (although they didn't all have fathers either). Jack and Evie were very proud of their father: but that wasn't quite the same thing as being able to tell stories about him.

“Why?” Asked Evie.

“I was working for the Embassy, and your father - he was still a captain - was on attachment to the Australian army, and he had some leave, and we'd decided to go for a stroll in the bush,” said Uncle Otto. As if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Where was Mummy?” Asked Evie.

Otto paused. How was he to explain this?

“Daddy and Mummy hadn't met yet,” said Mummy, in a very matter of fact sort of way, and just touching a finger to her eye.

“Gosh,” said Evie, who was flabbergasted. This was going to be a really interesting story! “Does that mean-”

“No it doesn't,” said Mummy very quickly, cutting her daughter off in her stride.

“So your father and I were going for a little walk in the bush-”

“How far?” Asked one of the children.

“Oh... Only about three hundred miles,” said Otto, as if that were nothing “We had our maps, and a compass, and Daddy reckoned he could tell our position by the stars-”

“Could he?” Asked Jack.

“I certainly hoped so! And we had water, and some tinned food, and a little flour to make damper with, and our matches. We were just fine. We'd said good-bye to modern life for a while, and we were off walkabout in the bush. Just us. 300 miles from anywhere.”

“Wow,” said Jack. “I wish I could do that. Mummy-”

“Shut up, Jack,” said his sister, who could be a very strict little girl when she chose. “You're interrupting the story. Please go on, Uncle Otto. There's something that you haven't explained.”

“What's that, darling?” Asked her mother proudly. Evie was so attentive!

“Where they started from,” said Evie.

“What do you mean?” Asked her brother.

“Oh, Jack! You are so slow, sometimes! Uncle Otto said they were 300 miles from anywhere. To start with. So, how did they get there?”

“Oh,” said her brother. Perhaps he wasn't yet quite ready to be Sherlock Holmes.

“We hitched a lift with a military transport plane that was flying over the interior.”

“Gosh!” Jack exclaimed. This was becoming really exciting! “Where did the plane land?”

“It didn't,” answered his uncle succinctly. “We jumped.”

Jack stared silently at his uncle. So did everyone else in the gig. Uncle Otto certainly knew how to tell a story!

“I made a very good landing,” Otto continued the tale. “But Liam - your father - didn't. His parachute wouldn't steer properly, and he landed on an pile of rocks.”

“Oh, dear,” said Evie. “Was Daddy injured? I wish I'd been there to help him!” She realized the impossibility of what she had said; but no-one was laughing. The story was too serious for that.

“That's a nice thought, Evie,” said her uncle. “He was lying on the rocks, face up, with his parachute all around him, and not moving at all. He had a very curious expression on his face, as if he were reviewing his whole life, and working out what he had still to do. I asked him how he was, and he said that he couldn't move his legs. In fact, he couldn't even feel them. He had no feeling in the lower half of his body at all.”

Evie glanced at the giant, who was listening to the story with absolute attention. Mac had been a doctor! He would have known what was wrong, and what to do about it! What a pity that he hadn't been there!

“Mac,” she said; and stopped. Malachy looked at her.

“Oh, nothing,” said Evie. She had just remembered that she wasn't supposed to know that Malachy had been a doctor. Gosh! It was going to be far more work being a psychiatrist than she had supposed!

‘What did you do?” Asked Jack.

“We talked,” said Otto. “Your father was quite calm and rational. Far more than I! He said we had to assume the worst. If he were paralyzed, and it seemed very likely, then I had to go off and get help.” Otto paused, and looked very solemn, and stared at Lundy Island as if he had never seen it before. “I wasn't to stay there with him. We would divide our rations, and he would stay there on his own while I went off. There was no point in both of us staying there, and he would be quite happy on his own. He had lots to think about.”

There was a pause.

“And what did you say?” Asked Evie gently.

Otto smiled blindly. “I said that I would never leave him,” he said.

“Good,” said Evie, “but not very practical.” Evie could be a very factual little girl. “What did Daddy say to that?”

“That he was giving me an order, and that I must obey. Even if I did outrank him. I said that was an order I could never obey. We didn't have to quarrel, I said, and I would spend the night with him and we would decide what do do in the morning. So I lay down beside him, and wrapped the parachutes around us, and we talked about other things and waited for the dawn.”

“What did you talk about?” Asked Jack.

“We talked about children,” answered his uncle simply. “How much Liam had wanted children, and how he would have brought them up. With love, and patience, and understanding.”

“He did,” murmured Annie; but so softly that no-one heard her.

“We must have slept, because when I woke up the sun was rising, and I became aware of a figure watching us.”

“A figure,” said someone.

“A tall, dark, man,” said Otto. “With a spear. Standing stock still, silhouetted against the rising sun.”

“An aborigine.”

“Washy.”

‘It was Washy,” agreed Otto. “And that was how we met.”

Otto picked up his oar again, and indicated that they should start rowing back to shore; but no-one was having that. Not even Annie, who had been worrying about the light.

“You can't stop there,” she said.

“You must finish the story,” said Evie.

“We shan't row. Not a stroke!” Said Jack.

And then someone else spoke, in the deepest voice that the children had ever heard.

“Go on,” it said.

“Mac,” said Evie. “Mac spoke.”

Otto stowed his oar. “We still have time, Annie,” he said. “Where was I? Oh, yes. Washy came over to us, and looked into Liam's eyes, and took his pulse, and put a hand under his back; and then he scratched a pattern in the small stones with the tip of his spear, and pondered it.

“This man is not yet ready to die,” he said. “Come. We have a long way to travel.”

“I can't -” began your father, and then he stopped. Washy was holding out his hand, and Liam took it and held it and rose to his feet.

“You can,” said Washy.

They began to walk. I followed.

Otto paused, and put his oar in the water and pulled a few strokes. “I'd never met anyone like Washy,” he said. “He was ... unstoppable.”

“Did Washy cure Daddy?” Asked Evie.

“I don't know,” answered her uncle; but the children were sure that he did. “We walked all the way out of the bush and back to what we called civilization. The three of us. Washy led. He didn't look at the map. He didn't use the compass. He didn't even seem to look at the stars.”

“He just knew,” said Jack wonderingly.

“Yes,” said Otto. “He just knew. When we finally reached a town, we checked in at the local hospital. There was nothing wrong with your father's back. There was no sign of any damage. It was as if the whole thing had never happened.”

Otto shook his head in wonder at the recollection.

“Washy said he had to go. We had interrupted his walkabout, and he needed to carry on. He didn't want a reward. He didn't want any food. He didn't want anything. He was Washy.”

Otto paused.

“Before he left, I asked him to explain what had happened. In his terms.”

“What did he say?”

“You have to know how the aborigines see things,” said Uncle Otto slowly. “To them, there is no such thing as an accident. Your father's parachute didn't malfunction accidentally. It happened for a reason: although we don't know what the reason was. And he didn't recover the use of his legs by accident. That was meant to happen, too. He was saved for a reason.”

“What reason?”

“I don't know, Jack,” said Uncle Otto. “I don't know, and not did Liam or Washy. None of us knows.” He smiled. “Perhaps he was saved in order to be a father.”