They're a Weird Mob

by Nino Culotta

  He stopped and looked at me for a moment, ‘Say that again?’

  I said it again.

  ‘Hey Bill. C’m ’ere.’ Another young man joined him. ‘Say ut again mate.’

  I obliged. They both laughed. The one called Bill said, ‘Wot you want’s a pair o’ trunks. Hire ’em at the dressing sheds.’

  ‘Where please?’

  ‘Dressing sheds over there,’ he pointed.

  I said, ‘Thank you very much.’ As I moved away I heard one say, ‘Place is full of ’em.’

  The other said, ‘Yeah. They’re good fer a laugh, but.’

  I found the dressing sheds and followed other people who were paying money to enter. I paid also, and entered. Opposite the entrance there was a counter, behind which men were attending to the people. I read the notices. Now I knew what the man called Bill had said. The correct clothing was called ‘trunks’. I said to one of the men, ‘I wish, please, the trunks.’

  He went to a shelf and selected one, and put it on the counter. ‘Towel?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  A towel was placed on top of the trunks. ‘Want a cubicle?’

  ‘What please is a cubicle?’

  ‘Place ter get changed.’

  ‘Some person will change my money there?’

  ‘No. I’ll change yer money here. Place ter change yer clothes in.’

  ‘Oh. Yes, please. I would like one of those.’

  I paid him the money he asked, and he gave me a key on a pin, with a metal tag on it. On this tag was a number. He said, ‘That’s the number of yer cubicle. Leave yer clothes there. Lock ’em up, an’ pin the key ter yer trunks. Got ut?’

  I said, ‘Yes, I have it in my hand.’

  He said to his friend, ‘Wouldn’ ut?’

  His friend said, ‘Yeah.’

  He said to me, ‘Through that door there. Third aisle on yer left.’

  I thanked him, and went through the doorway. I soon realised that the number on my key corresponded to one of the numbers on the many doors. The key unlocked it. This, I thought, was a very good system. I locked my clothes in this thing called a cubicle, pinned the key to the thing called trunks, and went out onto the beach. There were many people in the water, but they all seemed to be gathered together in big groups. This, I thought, was no doubt because of the sharks. I do not like to swim in very uncrowded waters, a shark would have no difficulty in finding me. But the young man had said they were nothing to worry about. So I determined that I would show these Australians that an Italian from the North was not afraid of their sharks. I entered the water where no one else was swimming. When I was about waist deep, I heard a whistle blow on the shore. I turned to see why, as it sounded like a police whistle. A young man with a close-fitting cap on his head, tied on with white strings, was waving to me. I waved to him. I had seen these young men on the newsreels at home. It was they they called lifesavers. They were very brave young men. No doubt he was saluting my own courage. At that moment, it seemed that the whole of the Pacific Ocean fell on the back of my neck. I was knocked down, and found myself on the bottom of the ocean, with my face in the sand. I got up with difficulty, in time to see another bank of water attacking me. I fought through it, and could see that there was calmer water further out in the sea. Once out there, I started swimming. It was very pleasant. The water was not too cold, and the sun was very bright. I floated on my back, enjoying very much the sensation of being lifted up and down by the waves.

  Presently I saw another man swimming out towards me. And when a wave lifted me up, I saw three others on the beach, with their hands above their heads. ‘Ah,’ I thought, ‘the lifesavers. They practise. They too are not afraid of the sharks. I will congratulate this man on his courage, and he will congratulate me. We will be comrades in danger.’ The man reached me, and he appeared to be very irritable. He said, ‘What the bloody hell d’yer think you’re doing?’

  I said, ‘I am swimming. It is very pleasant.’

  He said, ‘Get over between the flags.’

  ‘I do not see any flags.’

  ‘Get over there with the crowd.’

  ‘I do not like crowds.’

  ‘New Australians. I’ve had ’em. You’re in a rip, here. D’you want to finish up in New Zealand?’

  ‘It is a nice place, this New Zealand?’

  ‘You’re goin’ the right way to find out. Now get over there with the mob.’

  ‘I like swimming here. I am not afraid of the sharks.’

  ‘They’re not afraid of you either. S’pose I’ll have to haul you in for your own protection, you silly mutt.’

  ‘What, please, is a mutt?’

  ‘Look in the mirror some day. Come on, grab hold of the line.’

  ‘I am sorry. I do not wish to play.’

  ‘We’re not playing. You’re in a rip. Grab the line.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘D’you want me to use force?’

  ‘If you attempt the use of force, I shall be forced to bump you on the head.’

  He swam closer to me. I raised my fist to bump him. But I did not bump him. I did not know how he defended himself, but I found myself turned around, and he had gripped me under the armpits, and I realised we were being towed towards the shore. No matter how I struggled, I could not get away. So I soon ceased to struggle. I said, ‘You are taking me to the shore?’

  He said, ‘Yes.’

  I said, ‘When we reach the shore I will bump you on the head.’

  He said, ‘We’ll see about that.’

  He took one hand away from me, and made some sort of signal. Before I could take any advantage of the situation, his hand was back again under my arm. Then water was crashing all around us, and I had trouble keeping it out of my mouth and nose. Then I felt that he was standing. I put my feet down, and touched hard sand. I stood up and said to myself, ‘Now I will bump him.’ He said, ‘Grab him. He’s trying to turn on a blue.’ Three other lifesavers, whom I had not seen arrive, suddenly lifted me into the air. There were two at my head end, and one at my feet. My feet were higher than my head. They began to carry me through the shallow water to the beach. It was most undignified. I said so. They did not answer. I told them to put me down, and I would fight them all. Still they did not answer. They carried me up the beach, and the first lifesaver said, ‘Take him into the club.’ Despite my protests, and the curious people who were gathered around, they carried me right off the beach, and into this club. There, in the centre of a large expanse of floor, they sat me down. But they still held me too tightly for me to move. I was very irritable. The first lifesaver stood in front of me, and said, ‘Can you understand plain English?’

  I said, ‘Is it plain English when I say I will bump you on the head?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s plain enough.’

  ‘Then I understand English.’

  He said, ‘Good. Hold him while I read the riot act.’

  He then proceeded to explain to me why it was necessary to swim only in certain areas, because of these ‘rips’. He explained what a ‘rip’ was, and how he had brought me in because I refused to leave this ‘rip’, and soon I would have been far out, and the line would not have reached me, and there would have been much trouble. He was very polite, and I stopped being irritable. I said, ‘I am sorry. I did not understand.’

  He said, ‘That’s all right. Just keep between the flags. Everything all clear now?’

  I said, ‘Yes everything is all clear.’

  He said, ‘Good. Tell all your New Australian mates, will yer? They’re a bloody nuisance.’

  ‘I have no New Australian mates. I am only two days in Sydney.’

  ‘Okay. See you around.’

  ‘Thank you. I will see you around.’

  I went out and leaned on the
railing and watched the beach and the people, with this new knowledge in my mind. And presently I saw two men enter the water exactly where I had entered it. I ran down to the water and called out, ‘Don’t go in there, you silly mutt. There is a rip.’ They did not hear me, and began to swim towards New Zealand. I waited for the lifesavers to come, but none came. Then the two men turned and swam a little way parallel to the shore. A large wave appeared and carried them to the beach. They walked up the beach, and I said, ‘You are making trouble. Don’t you know that there is a rip?’

  They laughed, and went to sit down amongst the lifesavers with the coloured caps. I realised then that they also were lifesavers, who were probably not on duty. And I thought, ‘It is all right for lifesavers to swim in rips, but not for anybody else. Therefore, if I wish to swim away from the crowds, I must become a lifesaver.’ So I went up to where they were all sitting in and around a canvas enclosure, and I said, ‘Excuse me, please, what is the procedure if one wishes to become the lifesaver?’

  They laughed. One said, ‘Wot’s yer time for the four forty?’

  Another said, ‘Can yer crack a wave?’

  A third said, ‘Saw a tiddler crack him a while ago.’

  ‘You can’t talk, you went down the mine yesterday.’

  ‘Yeah? Wot about Maroubra last Sundy? All on ’e says, an’ falls for it himself. Comes up blue in the face, spittin’ sand an’ seaweed.’

  ‘I caught a boomer just after, but.’

  ‘Who didn’t.’

  ‘You didn’t. Out there like a shag on a rock, yellin’ Mummy, I’m lonely.’

  ‘I was waitin’ for a big one. There was one out the back.’

  ‘Did yer crack ut?’

  ‘Didn’t break. Didn’t have me propeller with me.’

  ‘There’d be a brown stain if y’ever did crack a howler, Bluey.’

  ‘I’d be on my own anyway. None o’ yous’d be game.’

  ‘Listen what’s talkin’? Be on ’im will yer?’

  Not understanding any of this, I decided that they must be speaking the technical language of lifesavers. If I wished to become a lifesaver, I would first have to learn these terms. I walked away, thinking about this. Then I lay on the sand and went to sleep. I woke much later, feeling cold. Clouds obscured the sun, and a fresh breeze was blowing. There were not many people left on the beach, or in the water. I returned to my cubicle and dressed myself. Then I walked up the street. There were a number of cafés, and I decided to have my dinner at one of them. It appeared to be owned by Greek people. It was very crowded, and people were drinking beer with their meals. I found a vacant seat at a table where three other men were sitting. They each had a bottle of beer and were eating fish. I said, ‘Excuse me, please. May I sit here?’

  One man said, ‘Help yerself.’

  I thanked him and sat down. When the waitress came, I also ordered a bottle of beer and some fish. I did not hurry over my meal, because I was busy trying to memorise the conversation of my three table companions, and telling myself sadly that I would never understand these people. I will reproduce it as I remember it.

  ‘As I was sayin’ this bloke says ’e’s a moral. Colossal times on the track an’ Darby on ’im. Can’t go wrong ’e says.’

  ‘Best hoop in the country, the old Darb.’

  ‘I seen ’im ride goats. Cooky too.’

  ‘Cooky don’ take on too many goats. Sharp as a tack, Cooky.’

  ‘Wot odds d’yer get?’

  ‘Twos.’

  ‘Twos? ’E was threes in the paddock.’

  ‘Makes no difference. ’E never run a drum, anyway.’

  ‘Wot d’you ’ave on him?’

  ‘Put a pony on ’im. Done ut cold.’

  ‘Bob came out of ut all right, didn’ yer Bob? Tin arse Bob they call ’im.’

  ‘Done me shirt on the first, though. Shanks’ pony ’ome, I reckoned. The old Cooky got me out of ut. Fifteens.’

  ‘Wonder the stewards didn’t ’ave ’im up. Last start at Warwick Farm ’e runs last at fours.’

  ‘Cooky wasn’t on ’im, but.’

  ‘Shrewd ’ead the old Cooky.’

  ‘Must be gettin’ a bit long in the tooth now, don’t yer reckon?’

  ‘No longer than the old Darb, an’ ’e’s still bungin’ ’em in.’

  ‘Wish ’e’d brought this crab in.’

  ‘Reckon ’e pulled ’im?’

  ‘That’s wot I reckon. But ’ow yer gunna prove ut?’

  ‘Yer can’t prove ut.’

  ‘Somebody slung in a poultice, I bet.’

  ‘They’re all crooked. Man’s a mug.’

  ‘You’ll be out there next Saturdy.’

  ‘Not me. I’ve had ut.’

  ‘Don’ gimme that. You’ll be there.’

  ‘How did Bert go, did yer hear?’

  ‘Still goin’.’

  ‘I went all right last week.’

  ‘That was last week.’

  ‘’E gets good information sometimes, the old Bert.’

  ‘Sometimes. That was a good thing ’e gave me, the week before. Like hell ut was.’

  ‘Ut was a good thing when ’e gave ut to yer. They pulled ut, that’s all.’

  ‘Ut wasn’t pulled. Ut was dead.’

  ‘Wot was the stable on?’

  ‘They was on that thing o’ Thompson’s. Every one o’ the bastards was on that.’

  ‘How der yer know?’

  ‘’Course they was.’

  ‘Mightn’ a been.’

  ‘I got two quid ter say they was.’

  It was very depressing. I understood nothing. Yet my boss had said Australians spoke English, and he was a knowledgeable man.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The remainder of the week-end was free of language troubles. That Saturday night I obtained a seat at a picture show at Bondi. On Sunday morning I found St. Mary’s Cathedral, and heard Mass there, which is the same all over the world. I lunched at a café in Bathurst Street, and then walked down to the Domain, where I listened to some very subversive speeches. These proved to me very vividly that freedom of speech in Australia was a living fact. There were many policeman listening, and they did not interfere even when one man declared that Bob Menzies and his party should all be stood up against a wall and shot. I visited the Art Gallery and walked down through the Botanic Gardens to the harbour, around to Circular Quay, then back up through the City to the same Bathurst Street café. After my evening meal, I walked up to Kings Cross, and before I went to my bed, I finished two stories for my boss in Italy.

  Sydney on Sundays can be a very lonely place for a stranger who has no friends, and I was glad to be back at Punchbowl with Pat, on Monday morning. His ‘’Ow yer goin’ mate orright?’ was a very pleasant sound. We finished digging the trenches, although the arrival of a truck load of long steel rods held us up for half an hour. We had to unload them. They were very heavy. Two large loads of metal and sand were tipped at the front of the block also. We did not see Joe. Pat said we would not see him until Wednesday. ‘All ’ands ter the pumps Wensdy,’ he said. ‘That concretin’s ’ard yacker. Anything ter do with concrete’s ’ard yacker.’

  But Joe arrived early Tuesday morning, bringing two large metal containers which Pat said were called forty gallon drums, and a smaller container which was a kero tin.

  ‘We’ll want ’em ter-morrer,’ Joe said. ‘Yer c’n use ’em for tyin’ steel ter-day, Pat. Owyergoingmate—orright?’

  ‘Orrightmate,’ said Pat.

  ‘’Ow yer goin’ Nino?’

  ‘Orright mate,’ I said.

  ‘Good on yer mate. Ever tied steel afore?’

  ‘No, Joe.’

  ‘Nothin’ to ut, mate. Pat’ll sh
ow you. See yez in the mornin’.’

  ‘Where’s the wire?’ said Pat.

  ‘Gees mate, I nearly forgot. Ut’s in the truck with the hacksaw.’

  He got a roll of thin wire and the hacksaw, and gave them to Pat. ‘Anythin’ else yer want, matey?’

  ‘Yeah. Couple o’ four inch nails.’

  ‘Knew there was somethin’ I forgot. Bring ’em back right away, mate.’

  ‘Orright. Give us a hand with these drums, Nino.’

  Joe went away in the truck, and I helped Pat to put the drums where he wanted them.

  I said, ‘Pat what does it mean when somebody says “’e never run a drum”?’

  ‘Means ’e wasn’t in the hunt.’

  ‘There is hunting in Australia?’

  ‘Racehorses, I’m talkin’ about. If ’e’s with the tail-enders, ’e never run a drum.’

  ‘This is also a drum?’

  ‘Yeah, different kind. We better get crackin’ with this steel.’

  He took a ruler from his pocket and measured a length of steel rod.

  ‘Cut ’er about there Nino. We want a coupla dozen four foot lengths like that.’

  ‘We want two dozen pieces, each four feet in length?’

  ‘Yeah, you cut ’em. I’ll go an’ tee up a vice.’

  He climbed over the fence, and I began cutting this steel. It was slow work, and I had not cut many when Pat returned.

  ‘Okay ter use next door’s vice,’ he said. ‘Give us wot y’ve cut an’ I’ll bend ’em.’

  ‘You have to bend them?’

  ‘Yeah. Use ’em for stirrups.’

  ‘Is not a stirrup also on a racehorse?’

  ‘Yeah. Different kind.’

  I went on cutting, and Pat soon returned with some stirrups. They were like three sides of a square, with the ends turned over and inwards. They were all made when Joe returned with some four inch nails wrapped in newspaper.

  I said, ‘Joe, I would like to live near to this work. There is some place where I could live?’

  ‘See wot yer mean, matey. That Mayfair’s no good ter yer. See wot I c’n do.’

  ‘Thank you Joe.’