Read Laughs, Corpses... and a Little Romance Page 21

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  Annabelle is a bit of an old tub really, chugs slowly up and down the river, no modern electronics like radar or depth sounder or anything like that. She’s even made of wood, built before fiberglass was even invented. Still, dad loves her and stupid Tim adores her ancient diesel engine chugging away down below decks. He’s always polishing it and mucking around down there. I reckon if he could squeeze a bunk in there he’d sleep with the bloody thing.

  Ninety nine percent of our trips are routine, and I was feeling especially bored one day, so it cheered me up no end to see an undertaker’s hearse waiting for us on the wharf as we tied up. The undertaker came aboard after the passengers had gone ashore. You usually think of undertakers as tall thin men with long sad faces, black suits and black top hats, but that’s probably from watching too many cowboy films on TV. This one was a chubby little man, even shorter than Tim. Still he was quite solemn, and he did have a black suit and shiny black shoes. He said to my dad “Good morning Mister Farley, your boat seems to be the only means of getting out to Mulloway Island at reasonable cost.” “It is indeed, what can I do for you?” “We need to go over to the Island to bring back a deceased male person for interment.” “I see. How are you proposing to carry this, er, deceased person?” asked dad. “We have a coffin with us.” “A coffin with a, um, a deceased person inside must weigh a fair bit. How are you going to carry the coffin from the, er, place of deceasement back to the Island jetty?” “We have a trolley with us sir, we are very experienced in these matters.” “Yes, well, come aboard then.” He turned to us. “Jack! Tim! Help these gentlemen load their coffin aboard.” The undertaker and his black-clad assistant produced a fold-up trolley. They slid a mahogany coffin with fancy chrome handles out of the hearse onto the trolley, and we pushed it across to Annabelle.

  The trip across to the Island was routine, except that some of the passengers seemed a bit edgy with the men in black and the coffin aboard. Even the sky was unusually grey, and the smell of rain was in the air. The assistant was a fellow about my age, but his hair was already starting to go thin and brushed across his bald spot, and he was skinny, like he could do with a good feed. “How did you get into the undertaking business?” I asked him. “It’s my dad’s business. When I left school I couldn’t find any other decent job so I took the easy way out and went in with him.” “Yeh, same with me. What’s it like dealing with dead bodies all the time?” “You get used to it; they’re just business.” “Don’t you find it depressing having to be solemn all the time?” “Not all the time, I just turn it on for the customers. I go out in the evenings and get pissed just like anybody else.”

  We tied up to the Island pier and unloaded the coffin and the trolley. “We’ll be back on our next trip in two hours. Will that be ok to pick you up again?” “That will be very suitable, thank you Mister Farley”. On our next trip to the Island we saw the black-clad pair waiting in the shade, with the coffin on the trolley. I started to help them get the coffin on board again, but I saw Tim was holding back. “What’s the matter with you, you lazy bastard?” “There’s a dead body inside, I don’t want to touch it.” “Don’t be such a bloody wimp,” I said, a bit irritated, “come on and help.” We lifted the coffin over the rail. “It’s a bloody sight heavier now” I said, “must be a big fat bugger inside.” The undertaker didn’t even smile. “You managed alright then?” I asked. “Oh yes, but we were a little dismayed to find that it was only a dirt road round the Island. I’m afraid the coffin had a very bumpy ride to the pier.” “Oh don’t worry,” I said, “the guy inside wouldn’t have noticed.” “It’s not the deceased I was worried about young man, it was the wheels on my trolley.”

  We headed back across the river. All went well ‘til we crossed the wake of a big motor launch that had just gone fast down the river. The trolley hadn’t been properly tied down and as Annabelle pitched it started to roll from side to side across the deck. On the second roll the trolley hit the rail and the coffin nearly tipped over the side. “Get that damned coffin secured!” Dad yelled out. Me and the undertaker and his assistant struggled to hold the coffin still while Tim lashed the trolley to the rail. “That was a close shave” I said, “We almost had a burial at sea then. Dad’s the skipper, so I suppose he would have had to read the service.” “I find nothing amusing in that,” said the undertaker “I’m sure the relatives of the deceased would have been extremely distressed, and my company’s reputation would have been irreparably damaged. I must say I find your light-hearted attitude in such a solemn matter extremely distasteful." I went round to the wheelhouse and asked dad quietly “How much do I charge them?” “Two return tickets for the gentlemen, that’s thirty-six dollars, plus twenty dollars return freight for the coffin.” “What about the guy inside, five dollars one way?" "Well, true, he did have a one way trip, but since, due to your stupid negligence, he almost got lost overboard, I think we’d better take him free of charge.”