A Yacht Called Erewhon (10 page)

W
ell,’ said Dad as he stood up, trying to piece the bits of the puzzle together in his mind. ‘You’ve certainly filled in a few gaps.’ He leaned forward and kissed Mic on the forehead. ‘Do you mind us getting involved with
Erewhon
?’

‘Not if I can be involved, too,’ Mic replied.

Dad reached down and lifted her from her chair in an enormous bear hug. ‘Welcome aboard!’

He finally put her down. ‘We’d better get some shut-eye—it’s keel-finding at sun-up.’ None of us needed convincing, and we disappeared to our sleeping bags.

The dawn chorus seemed louder than usual as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted under the awning. I rolled out of my bed and ambled out into the cool morning light. The sunrise was spectacular, and Mic had breakfast humming.

‘Didn’t mean to wake you quite yet,’ she called.

‘Wasn’t you, it was the smell of that coffee,’ I replied.

I sat down to toast and cornflakes.

‘Sorry I can’t do better than that—the bacon and eggs have run out.’

‘Don’t worry, they’re bringing fresh supplies on the barge.’

When Matt, Mum and Dad joined us, we all sat around to work out our strategy for the day.

‘Any more coffee in that bloody pot?’ boomed a voice from behind us.

‘Fatman!’ Dad roared.

‘You bet your life, Bollocks. What’s for breakfast?’

‘Nothing for you.
We’re
having coffee and cornflakes,’ Dad replied, with a grin.

‘Then you won’t be needing these,’ said Hepi, tipping a bucket of mussels into the billy and lighting the barbie. ‘I’ll have to eat them all myself.’

‘What the hell are you doing here today?’ Dad asked.

‘Me mate at Ocean Tow decided to combine two jobs together, so we delivered a couple of trucks on the way up and came on here. Lenny thought we were going to have trouble getting the trucks off at Great Barrier and we might need to stay for high tide, but we managed to drive them off last night. We moseyed on up the coast, got here at about four, and drifted in on the tide. The barge is beached, with the loading ramp nicely tucked under the bow of that pile of firewood you’ve got over there—’ Hepi suddenly noticed there was an extra person listening.

‘Let me introduce Mic,’ Mum said, as she saw Hepi eyeing Mic up and down. He smiled and nodded at her.

‘What’s the score, Bollocks?’

‘Well, Fatman, seeing you’re here early, we’ll go and have a look at how we can get our lady loaded onto the barge. We still have to get the old keel off the bottom. Maybe we could use the barge as a dive platform—what d’you reckon?’

‘Sounds good to me.’ Hepi dragged the steaming billy off the barbecue and began shelling the mussels.

‘Who’s on the barge?’ Dad asked.

‘Just Looney Lenny and Matilda, but they’ve gone below to get some kip. He’s been awake all night.’

Mic, Matt, Mum and I grabbed our towels and wandered
down to the riverbank for an early morning swim, while Hepi and Dad sat at the table, close to the billy. Hepi grabbed a bowl, filled it with cornflakes, and threw a handful of the shelled mussels on top. He reached out for a spoon, wiped it on his pants, and hoed into his breakfast. Between mouthfuls, he beckoned Dad towards the billy, spluttering, ‘Help yourself!’

Dad had decided that the best idea was to load the yacht onto the barge first. Then, if time permitted, we’d head out and look for the keel.

The barge was nicely placed under
Erewhon
’s bow. The bow ramp was down, and we were eager to get her aboard. Because of the angle of the riverbank, the ramp didn’t touch the ground, presenting us with our first problem. The second problem was that the deck of the barge was 100 feet long and
Erewhon
was 135 feet.

Hepi climbed on board the barge and banged on the cabin door. ‘Come on, Looney!’ he bellowed.

‘Drop dead, you fuckin’ fat bastard!’ came a reply from deep within the bowels of the cabin.

‘Pieces of eight, pieces of eight, fuckin’ fat bastard!’ came a second, squeaky voice.

‘Ol’ Looney’s not an early riser,’ laughed Hepi, as he came back to the bow, ‘and, man, does that cabin smell bad!’

The stringy silhouette of a tall, unshaven man appeared in the cabin doorway. ‘What’s all this fuckin’ commotion?’ he muttered, screwing up his eyes as they adjusted to the light. Dressed in jeans and a tatty seaman’s jumper stood an unkempt streak of a man. His clothes appeared to have been slept in for a month, and he had a parrot sitting on his shoulder.

Hepi beamed. ‘I’d like you all to meet Looney Lenny, the
best bargie in the business, and Matilda.’

Looney grunted in our direction, then ambled down to the barge to inspect his next cargo. ‘Big fucker, isn’t she!’ he proclaimed, rubbing his bleary eyes.

‘Big fucker, big fucker!’ squawked Matilda.

‘What the fuck are you going to do with her?’

‘We’re going to restore her!’ said Dad.

‘What about that?’ Lenny pointed to the giant hole. ‘It might let some fuckin’ water in.’

‘Oh, we’ll bog her up a bit,’ replied Dad sarcastically.

‘You’ll need a fuckin’ concrete mixer to stir up the bog for that bastard!’

I looked around for Mic, but she’d disappeared. By now, Looney was on shore, inspecting the load.

‘How much do you reckon this fucker weighs?’

‘About fifty tons without the keel,’ Dad replied.

‘Shit—yer fuckin’ joking!’

‘No, fully rigged she was around ninety tons displacement. There’s another forty-odd tons of lead out in the bay we have to pick up too!’

‘Now you
are
fuckin’ joking!’

‘Do I look like I’m joking?’

‘Fuck!’ Looney scratched his head and continued his survey of the hull.

‘Fuck!’ squawked Matilda from her new position on the bow-rail. She only left Looney’s shoulder to eat or when he stepped ashore, and she never left the comparative safety of the barge. This probably went a long way to explaining her understanding of the English language.

‘Shud-up, you fuckin’ bird brain!’ Looney screamed at her. ‘I’ll screw yah neck!’ Matilda went silent instantly, but continued to strut back and forth along the bow-rail.

‘Reckon we’ll wait till the tide comes back in and lifts the
bum off the bottom before we try loading that thing,’ he said. ‘We’ll get the ramp down and continue yer fuckin’ wooden road out to it while we wait.’

The tide slowly started to lift the barge stern as it crept into the river mouth, and the cargo deck began to level. We toiled under the warm morning sun, struggling against time to get the heavy planks in place. Matilda watched intently, offering foul-mouthed advice. Hepi, pouring sweat from every pore, was the first to stop, and took a ribbing from Dad, but was saved when Mum and Mic arrived with morning tea. Matt and I dropped the last plank in place and joined the others.

‘I could murder a fuckin’ cuppa,’ announced Looney, without introduction, looking straight at Mum.

‘You must be Lenny?’ she replied, with a smile.

‘That’s right, missus, but everyone calls me fuckin’ Looney!’

‘Fuckin’ Looney, fuckin’ Looney!’ Matilda squawked.

‘Shud-up, bird brain!’

Matilda again went silent.

Mic appeared as Looney was about to continue the conversation. ‘Hello,’ she said, handing him a cup of tea. ‘Jim tells me you’re going to transport
Erewhon
back to Auckland.’

‘Yep,’ grunted Looney, and then wandered off along the riverbank with Hepi. The tide continued to lift the barge stern as they drained their mugs and headed back, looking for a refill. ‘We’d better lash this tub to those fuckin’ trees,’ announced Looney. ‘We don’t want to float away with your pile of firewood halfway on board!’

As we made the barge fast to the closest trees, Looney and Hepi laid out the winch cable and attached it to the front bogie.
I positioned Aggie at
Erewhon
’s stern and attached her winch cable to a bridle from the rear bogies.

All was ready, and we waited for the tide to lift her.

Despite his bleary-eyed demeanour and scruffy appearance, Looney seemed to throw a switch when the loading started. Matilda knew the signs and, without another sound, flew to her perch high on top of the wheelhouse. Looney manned the winch in front of the wheelhouse, and from this position could oversee the whole operation, firing orders like a machine-gun as
Erewhon
began her slow creep on board.

Dad had hold of the steering tiller on the front bogie and, with Hepi’s help, guided the rig. I was on Aggie and slowly paid out the winch cable to provide brakes if necessary. Matt positioned himself on the upturned hull, to relay messages between Looney and me, and Mum and Mic found a safe position on shore.

Looney bellowed that he was about to start winching. I eased the tension on Aggie’s cable, and Looney applied power. The front bogie started to climb onto the first plank, but it was unable to take the weight and cracked. Looney eased the winch, and Matt signalled for me to pull her.

‘Put some decent timber under the bastard!’ Looney yelled in disgust, and Hepi and Dad beefed up the ramp with more planks. ‘OK!’ Dad yelled.

‘It better be,’ replied Looney. ‘That tide ain’t gonna stay in all fuckin’ day!’ Without a word, Hepi and Dad retook their position at the steering tiller and nodded to Looney. Matt gave me the signal, and I eased the winch wire.

Looney’s wire sang as it took the strain again, and the bogie started to climb the ramp. Progress was slow and cautious as
Looney eased
Erewhon
onto the steel ramp.

‘Hold her back!’ he yelled, and Matt relayed the message. I took up the slack, and the wheels gently rolled down onto the deck.

‘Fuckin’ great, young fella,’ Looney called above the roar of the engines. I took that as high praise. ‘Start aiming the bow over the stern on the starboard quarter,’ he continued, as Hepi and Dad pulled hard on the steering tiller. ‘Fuckin’ great—let her run!’

Matt yelled the order while clinging tight to the keel stub. I was watching the rear bogies and warned him they were about to mount the ramp. Looney slowed his winch again. As the wheels climbed, he applied the pressure once more. The winch motor groaned. ‘Shit, she’s a heavy bitch!’ he exclaimed.

As the rear bogies began to drop, I applied the tension again, and the wheels stepped lightly onto the deck. As
Erewhon
moved along the barge, the stern began to sink lower into the water. Even though she was upside down and had a large battle scar on her forward quarter,
Erewhon
was once again water-borne. It was going to be a while before she could float unaided, but I knew that, one day soon, she would. I eased the wire out as Looney continued to yell orders.

‘That’ll fuckin’ do!’ Looney yelled, raising his gnarled right hand with the authority of a traffic cop.

I applied the brake and shut Aggie down, while Looney did the same to the winch engine. ‘That’s enough of that fuckin’ racket,’ he pronounced, and the river mouth took on a strange, eerie silence. The quiet seemed to last for some time, as we all held our breath, not wanting to spoil the moment—a fitting tribute to the end of another chapter in
Erewhon
’s life. The birds were the first to make a sound, and Looney was next. ‘Right!’ he yelled. ‘You lot can fuck off while I tie this bastard down.’

‘Do you want some help?’ I asked.

‘Nope! I always lash me own cargo on. Then I know the fuckin’ stuff will stay on board. Just leave the wire from the dozer hooked up.’

We left him to it.

Mic had breakfast under way as we rose, bleary-eyed, to yet another clear morning. ‘It’s going to blow seven bells later today,’ she announced.

‘How do you know that?’

‘See how the island out there is suspended above the water by a black line? That means it’s going to blow for about a week from the north.’

I hadn’t heard a forecast for about a week, but it looked pretty calm to me.

Looney wandered up the track and stood scratching himself as he stared out to sea. ‘How long d’ya reckon it’s goin’ to take to get that fuckin’ lump of lead off the bottom?’

‘Not sure,’ I replied. ‘Why?’

‘Cause I want to get away from this fuckin’ lee shore before that blow comes,’ he replied, nodding towards the still-calm ocean.

‘Mic said it was going to blow. How can you tell?’

‘Thirty years on this fuckin’ coast is how I tell, laddy! It’ll be blowin’ its arse off by seventeen hundred. I need to be five miles off the coast by then or I’ll have to run up the river till it fuckin’ blows over. Now where’s that fuckin’ keel?’

‘I’m not sure, but Mic knows.’

‘Bloody great—hide and fuckin’ seek while a storm’s brewing!’

Matt arrived, and we raced off to get the dive gear while Mic disappeared into the bush to fetch hers. I coupled her large
bottle to the compressor and filled it.

‘That’s a big one. I haven’t seen any like that before.’

‘My boss bought it for me when I was working in the Caribbean. It’s great, gives me a lot more bottom time.’

Back at the barge Looney had the engine running, and as we scrambled on board I looked out to sea. It was still flat calm, and only Looney’s urgency gave any hint of the trouble that was brewing.

Mum, Dad and Hepi joined us. Looney hoisted the ramp, engaged the winch on the stern anchor, and hauled the barge into midstream.

‘Where are we fuckin’ going?’ Looney called above the roar of the engines.

‘I’ll show you,’ replied Mic, as she walked towards the cabin door.

Looney threw the throttles open, and the twin Gray Marines roared. Mic half-stumbled, half-ran down the deck as the barge leaped forward.

‘What’s biting the Looney One?’ asked Hepi.

‘I don’t want to be caught on a lee shore with this pile of firewood acting like a fuckin’ mainsail. My safest bet is to be about ten miles out when it hits! If I’ve got to run up the river, I’ll be stuck there for a fuckin’ week while it passes through.’

Mic directed Looney out of the river mouth and into the bay. Within a few minutes, she called to Looney to slow down and moved away from the cabin door to sight her line-up points. ‘Stop!’ she called. ‘Stop.’