Captain Mack

by James Roy

  “Aye, it’s a long way all right, lad, but that’s where I’m going.”

  Danny didn’t see much point in arguing.

  Caleb and Danny were eating lunch in their usual spot, under the weeping willow beside the Technical Block. It was a cloudless autumn day, with a cool edge to the clear air. The interest centred around the cricket nets was waning, and the first of the footballs were out.

  “So what’s the appeal?” Caleb asked. “You know, I still don’t really get it.”

  “I keep telling you — he’s old and lonely. He needs me, I reckon. That’s all.”

  “Needs you? For what — to buy razors, or to salute him?”

  “You can laugh,” Danny said, “but I think he looks forward to seeing me.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange, you hanging out with an old guy?”

  “Why is that strange? How about when you visit your grandma?”

  Caleb thought about that one. “I don’t exactly hang out with her, though,” he said.

  “No, but you go and see her.”

  “Yeah, the whole family does, every Christmas Eve.”

  Danny stared at him. “Is that it? Just once a year?”

  “Well, she’s right over the other side of town. It takes ages to get there. Oh, look out — here’s trouble,” Caleb said, spotting Shaun and Grant walking across the grass towards them. They were tossing a rugby ball back and forth between them.

  “Hey, boys,” said Shaun as they got close. “Footy, anyone?”

  “You know we don’t play footy,” Caleb said.

  “Oh yeah, I completely forgot. Well, you know, it’s never too late to learn. We can teach you if you like.”

  “We’re quite happy here, thanks,” Caleb replied.

  “Picnic,” said Grant. “They’re having a picnic.” Then he snorted with amusement at his joke.

  “Picnic, lunch, whatever,” Caleb said. “Either way, we don’t want to play footy, thanks anyway.”

  Danny stood up. “I don’t know — maybe we do,” he said. He’d wondered for a while if perhaps it was time to try a new tack, since Dad’s counting to ten idea wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped. He walked over to the bin and threw his lunch papers in. “Come on, let’s play,” he said.

  Caleb was wearing a pained expression. Shaun and Grant were smiling smugly.

  “Well, come on then,” Danny repeated, holding out his arms. “Let’s go.”

  “You sure about this, Smell?” Shaun asked. “Because you can get hurt playing footy.”

  Danny tried his best to look cool and convincing. ‘Yeah, I know that. So let’s see the ball.”

  “Righto then.” Shaun passed the ball hard at Danny, much faster than Danny expected. It thumped into his abdomen, and despite a slight involuntary cringe, Danny thought he caught it reasonably well.

  He tried to appear casual as he tossed the ball from hand to hand. “So what do we do now?” he asked.

  “We kick it,” Shaun answered.

  “Kick it where? Back to you?”

  “If you want.”

  “Like this?” Danny dropped the ball onto his foot and it looped to Grant, who caught it easily with one hand.

  Shaun nodded, even looked slightly impressed. “Yeah, something like that. Here, try again.” He took the ball from Grant and passed it back to Danny. “Kick it again,” he prompted.

  Danny tried it again. This time it wasn’t quite as good, but it was still better than he would have expected, and Shaun made the catch look simple.

  “You know, there’s another skill we practise sometimes,” Shaun said. “It’s called taking the in-goal grubber. Do you think that’s too advanced for Smell?” he asked Grant.

  Grant shrugged. “No, I reckon he could almost handle that.”

  “All right, Smell, here’s how it works. I’m going to kick the ball to you, and you try to scoop it up off the ground without fumbling, OK?”

  “Danny,” Caleb said in a low voice.

  “Yeah, yeah, wait on,” Danny said.

  “Danny,” Caleb repeated.

  “Hang on,” Danny said, waving his friend’s warning away. “OK, let’s have it.” He beckoned towards Shaun. “What are you waiting for?”

  Grant kicked the ball low at Danny, and it bounced unevenly towards him. Concentrating hard, he bent at the knees and felt it nestle satisfyingly into his cradled arms.

  “Danny!” he heard Caleb shout. He looked up to see Shaun and Grant rushing at him, only a metre or two away and closing fast. He braced himself, but it was too late, and they cannoned into his chest, knocking him flat on his back. They both landed heavily on him, and he heard them laugh. Surprisingly his glasses were still on his face.

  “Maybe next time we’ll show you how to kick the ball out of the in-goal area before you get nailed,” Shaun chuckled.

  Danny rolled from beneath them and got slowly to his feet. Through some fluke or miracle he still had the ball in his arms. “Kick it? You mean something like this?” he asked, and he booted the ball with all his strength.

  “Uh-oh, the Fat Controller,” he heard Caleb say.

  The ball was sailing in the direction of Mr Whaley, who was patrolling the schoolyard with his orange plastic lunchbox tucked under his arm and his back to the ball. For a while it looked as though it might narrowly miss him, but to Danny’s fast-growing horror it bounced, took a sharp right-hand turn, and smashed into the lunchbox, scattering sandwiches and assorted lunch rubbish over a wide area.

  Mr Whaley turned as if he had all day. He picked up the ball, returned the rubbish to the lunch-box, then strode towards the four boys, silencing the laughter from the other students looking on with a couple of stern sideways glances.

  “Well, lads,” he said as he stopped in front of them. He turned the ball over and read Shaun’s name written in large black letters along one side. “So, who kicked this?”

  “Snell, sir,” Shaun said without hesitation, and Grant nodded in agreement.

  “Snell?” Mr Whaley turned and contemplated how far he’d just walked. “Doubtful,” he said, turning back. “That’s almost forty metres. I doubt Mr Snell could have covered that distance with a drop punt. I mean, that’s a rather impressive kick, isn’t it, Shaun?”

  “Yes, sir,” Shaun said, dropping his eyes. “I suppose it was a good kick — felt like it came off the boot well. But it was an accident. I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it was. Well, you can collect this at the end of the day.” Mr Whaley tossed the ball in the air and managed to just hang on to the catch. “More care required, gentlemen,” he added as he sauntered away.

  “Yes, sir,” the boys said together.

  “I’d better get that ball back,” Shaun hissed at Danny. “If he keeps it —”

  “Great kick, Shaun — almost forty metres,” Caleb said with a smirk. “That one’s going to be talked about for a while. Mainly by you, I’d say.”

  “Come on,” Shaun said to Grant. “Let’s leave these losers to their picnic.”

  Danny couldn’t resist one more comment as they sulked away. “Gee, that came off the boot well.”

  To his surprise, Shaun didn’t look back.

  “So when are we doing it?” Captain Mack asked. “Have ye made plans?”

  Danny sat on the edge of the bed and chose his words carefully. “I’ve been thinking,” he said.

  “Well? Out with it, lad.”

  “I don’t think the escape’s such a great idea.”

  “Ye don’t? But why, Snell? I thought ye were in it with me.”

  “I was, sir, but I don’t think it’ll work. I mean, you keep saying you want to go back to Glasgow, and —”

  “Eventually, lad, eventually. Don’t skip out on me now, Snell.”

  “I just don’t know if we can do it. Not without getting into trouble.” Despite wanting to, he couldn’t look Captain Mack in the eye as he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he added pathetically.

  Captain Mack turned
his head and gazed out the window. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Then finally he spoke. “Have ye ever had malaria, lad?”

  “No.”

  “How about fevers so bad ye can’t even get off the bed?”

  “No.”

  “No. And have ye ever been so hungry ye wanted to throw up every minute of the day, felt like ye stomach was digesting itself?”

  “No.”

  Now he looked Danny square in the face, his voice building in intensity. “Have ye ever been so thirsty that ye couldn’t swallow and yer head felt like it was going to split apart? Have ye, Snell?”

  “No.”

  “No what?” Captain Mack shouted, startling Danny and making him jump.

  “No, sir,” he said in a feeble voice.

  “Then what right do ye think ye might have to sit there and tell me that ye’re afraid of getting caught? Tell me that! Are ye gutless?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Ye don’t know. I thought as much.” Captain Mack went back to watching the brick wall beyond the bars. “Go on, go back to wherever ye call home, lad. And I hope ye’re comfortable.”

  Danny stood uncertainly. “I’m … I’m sorry, sir. I just don’t think I can do it.”

  Captain Mack didn’t reply, didn’t even turn around.

  TEN

  “Well?” said Dad, opening Danny’s door. “Are you getting out or not?”

  Danny undid his seatbelt but stayed in the car.

  “Come on, Dan, the appointment’s at two. What’s up, mate?”

  Danny looked up at Dad. “What if he says it’s going to be heaps longer?”

  “Then that’s what he says. But he might not.”

  Danny took a deep breath and nodded.

  “We’ll never know unless we ask,” Dad added.

  “What if it’s no better at all?”

  “Then we’ll deal with it. I know you’re frightened, mate, but —”

  “I’m not frightened,” Danny said as he got out and closed the door.

  “Whatever you say, Dan,” Dad said as he put one arm around Danny’s shoulders.

  Dr Granville gave Danny and Dad a flickering smile as he finished drying his hands and dropped the screwed-up paper towel into the bin. “Well, Daniel, it looks like there’s been some improvement. Those muscles we talked about last time seem a little stronger.”

  “Does that mean we can do the operation?” Danny asked hopefully.

  Dr Granville sat behind his desk and massaged the tip of his nose with one finger. He seemed to be thinking carefully about his answer. “Not yet,” he said at last.

  “Then when?”

  “This visit was a little earlier than planned, so I think we should probably see you again when we originally arranged. I understand your anxiety —”

  “Will we be able to do the operation after that next visit?” Danny asked.

  “Daniel, when I said that I’d noticed some improvement, I should add that it wasn’t of dramatic proportions. I have to be honest — it is taking longer than I’d hoped. I still think that perhaps by the end of the year we’ll be ready to think about surgery, but I don’t want to make any promises at this stage. We do need to be patient.”

  “I see,” said Dad, glancing at Danny and forcing a smile. “OK, well that gives us something to aim at, doesn’t it, Dan?”

  Danny didn’t answer.

  Dr Granville leaned forward, his elbows on his desk and his hands clasped together. “I know this is of little consolation to you, Daniel, but yours is one of the more unusual cases I’ve seen,” he said. “We always knew that it would take time, right from the very beginning.”

  “It’s just that there have been … issues at school,” Dad explained.

  “I understand,” Dr Granville replied. “Well, let’s just see how things are next time.”

  “Why don’t you say it the way it is?” Danny said crossly as they walked to the car.

  “What do you mean?” Dad asked.

  “Why did you say that there had been ‘issues at school’ when you could have just said “Danny gets picked on every day because his eyes are crooked and you can’t fix them yet’?”

  “It’s not Dr Granville’s fault.”

  “It’s not my fault either, Dad. But I still go to school and get teased and have fights picked with me and get hit in the head with cricket balls and put on detention, and none of that’s my fault, is it?”

  “No, son, it’s not.”

  “Well, that’s it, Dad. I’ve made my mind up. I don’t want to go there anymore. I want to go to a different school.”

  Dad stopped walking and looked at Danny, a puzzled expression on his face. “Leave St Lawrence’s? Sorry, mate, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s what kids are like, Dan. It wouldn’t matter where you went, people would still make fun of your glasses and your eye.”

  “That’s meant to make me feel better?”

  Dad took a deep breath. “Look, let’s give it until the end of the year.”

  “The end of the year’s too far away.”

  “You’re right, but you’ll just have to be strong.”

  “I am strong, Dad.”

  “Stronger.”

  “Here we go again,” Danny said as he and Caleb approached the school gates. Just like every other morning the noise drifted out, the sounds of shouting, playing, teasing pouring like a flood over the brick wall and through the tall steel gates. “I’m really starting to hate this place.”

  “It’s not that bad, is it?” Caleb said.

  “The place is fine, I guess — it’s the people I hate. I just don’t want to be here. I don’t want to have to face Shaun and Grant again. I’m tired of being nice, trying to act like I don’t care when really I do. I thought Dad would understand, especially after what the doctor told us. I asked Dad if I could go somewhere else, but he said no.”

  “You wouldn’t leave me here, would you?”

  Danny shrugged. “I guess not. I’d love to just run away from it all, but that’s crazy, isn’t it?”

  “Totally.”

  “I thought you might say that.”

  It was evening. Danny was going to visit Captain Mack for the first time since their argument, and he was planning to apologise. He’d given it a lot of thought, and decided that he’d made the right decision — the escape was far too risky. He knew that Captain Mack would still disagree, but if they could avoid discussing it, perhaps it wouldn’t matter. Whatever happened, Danny wanted to keep visiting, and hoped that an apology might smooth things out a bit.

  He was heading down the corridor towards Room 5 when he was almost knocked over by a couple of nurses scurrying around the corner.

  “Stupid old codger,” he heard one of them say. “What does he expect if he won’t co-operate?”

  When Danny got to Captain Mack’s room he found the old man sitting on the edge of his bed with tears pouring down his face. His mouth was strange and floppy, like it had caved in.

  “Are you OK?” Danny asked. Then he felt stupid. Of course he wasn’t OK

  Captain Mack turned away so Danny wouldn’t see his face. “What do ye want, lad? Ye can’t see me like this.”

  Danny stood there uncertainly, one hand resting on the bedside locker. “Um … can you tell me what’s the matter?” he asked.

  “The guards.”

  “Why? What did they do?”

  “The animals lost my teeth,” Captain Mack said.

  “Lost them?”

  “My dentures, lad. They’re gone.”

  “Well, they must be around somewhere. Why don’t we look for them?”

  Captain Mack shook his head. “Don’t make out like I’m daft. I looked everywhere, Snell. I can’t find them. And while I looking they served dinner.”

  “And you couldn’t eat it without your teeth?” Danny said.

  Captain Mack frowned impatiently. “No, darn ye, while I
was looking for my teeth they served dinner,” he explained. “And now they’ve cleaned up and I’ll not be getting fed tonight. And I still can’t find my teeth.” He was close to tears again.

  A fat man in one of the beds nearest the door was laughing. “Lost yer chompers there, Scottie?” he called out. “Can’t chew yer haggis without yer teeth in, can ya, Scottie?”

  Another man was creeping slowly through the door with his walking frame, and he joined in the laughter with his wheezy cackle.

  “Shut up, ya noisy mongrels,” said the man in the bed nearest the window, and he rolled onto his side and held his radio close to his ear.

  “Go back to yer gee-gees, ya pathetic geezer,” snarled the fat man.

  Danny started going through the clutter on top of Captain Mack’s locker, searching for the dentures. They weren’t there, so he got down on his hands and knees and looked under the bed. “They’ve got to be here,” he said. “They can’t —”

  “Stop it, darn ye!” shouted Captain Mack, and Danny stopped suddenly. He’d never heard the old man really let fly before, and it was enough to make anyone take notice. “Stop looking! I told ye, the guards took them! They lost the darn things!”

  “The nurses, you mean?”

  “Nurses, guards, what’s the confounded difference, lad? They lost my dam teeth and won’t be held to it!” He was crying again. He grabbed Danny’s arm with one of his knobbly hands and pulled him close. Now his voice was low. “I can’t take this place, lad. I keep telling ye, I don’t care whether it’s the other place where I was before or Glasgow or wherever, but ye’ve got to help me run away from this hell-hole. It’s not humane, do ye hear?”

  Danny pulled his arm free and stood up. “I’ll try and find your teeth if you’ll stop shouting,” he said, and went out into the corridor.

  “Can’t chew his haggis until you do, boyo,” he heard the fat man call after him, and the noisy laughter started all over again.

  One of the nurses he’d seen earlier was hurrying by with a crumpled pile of sheets in her arms. “Excuse me,” he said, “Captain Mack’s lost his teeth.”

  She stopped and stared at him. She was very thin. Some of the hair from her ponytail was falling across her face, and she pushed it behind her ear. “Who’s lost his teeth?” she asked impatiently.