Reunion - Chapter Eight

“So I think that means,” said Prince as the chants died down, “that we win this competition and so you brains trust boys have cook piggy here.”

“I still don’t think you can claim you have hunted this boar,” said Stephan, “It looked very much like it hunted you.”

“That’s bollocks. Come on we caught the boar , you have to cook it.”
“I think you should just admit defeat,” said Esacam quietly. “At least we have some meat tonight.”

“Fine.” Stephan pouted like a petulant child and folded his arms.

“Erm, I’m not sure we’ll get meat tonight.” It was Walker who was eyeing up the boar as it lay on the ground in the middle of the group, “it needs to be bled, gutted and skinned before it can be cooked. And it’s going to take a while to do all that with one pen knife, never mind how long it will take to roast a beast of this size.”

“Well you better make a start then boys,” said Prince. Walker ignored the goading tone.

“Bleeding is the most important first step, before it coagulates.”

“Where are you getting all this from Walker? “ Asked Stephan, “Ray Mears again?”

“Nah my uncle’s a master butcher.”

Over the next couple of hours Stephan and Esacam, assisted by Walker set about dealing with the boar. As a muslim Nalesh Mougal did not want to have too much to do with it but he was able to help out on the best way to bleed the animal following the principles of the Halal tradition even if the pig was already dead and of course the species of animal was all wrong.

Gutting was the next task and proved messy if relatively straight forward using Walker’s pen knife. The left the carcass hanging by it’s hind legs from a sturdy branch of one of the trees that overhung the camp area. Its feet bound with the travel iron cord of the failed snare. They felt this was enough work for one evening and the carcass would benefit from being hung for a while to mature.

*

The following day they set about skinning the beast. Its hide was extremely thick, little wonder then that the hunting teams spears, being little more than sharpened sticks just bounced off. Nalesh really couldn’t cope with that part and so whilst Walker, Esacam and Court took turns hacking away at it he went off to see if he could catch any fish and find something edible from the rock pools that low tide had exposed. Subbu had mentioned crayfish earlier.

Nalesh was quite successful and came back in the late morning with a small fish and a selection of shellfish , some sort of muscle and his most prized possession, a dozen large clams.

“You’ve been busy,” said Walker looking up , his hands covered on pig blood, “where did you get those from,” he nodded his head towards the clams.

“Just a couple of hundred metres off shore, when the tide is low. You can just dig them out and catch them as they try to get away. Should make a nice change.”

“Well we’re nearly done here, “ Walker wiped the back of his across across his brow leaving a red smear on his forehead, “so unless you want to know the result, you had better look away now.”

Nalesh took this as a queue to make himself scarce whilst the boar was lowered from the tree and speared on a makeshift spit that Stephan and Esacam had fashioned from one of the surviving wing ribs from the plane crash.

By early afternoon the boar was mounted on its spit and starting to slowly roast over the fire, drops of fat fell from it every now and then causing the flames to flare up.

Whilst all this was going on Prince and the rest of the rugby team had been mostly sitting around reliving their hunting tales and only occasionally goading Court and Esacam about their culinary or butchery skills.

When it came to actually starting to roast the pig of course the primal male outdoor cooking instinct took over and they all found themselves helping to set up the spit, bank the fire and from time to time turn the spit. With the exception of Nalesh they were all looking forward to eating a hot meal of meat.
By early evening the boar was pronounced cooked and the clams were stuck into the embers of the fire for a few minutes whilst Nalesh held up his small round fish to the flames on the end of a stick like some piscine marsh mellow.

The group settled down to their evening meal with the sun low in the sky but still casting strong, bright, long shadows. Nalesh had his fish and muscles but the clams were eaten by all and it was generally agreed made an excellent starter before the main event.

The boar was carved using the ubiquitous pen knife initially though in fact the meat was so tender they could cut chunks off using the plastic knives they had recovered from Guy’s rucksack and they soon fell to helping themselves to the beast like a lion pride gathering round a wildebeest that had been brought down by one of their number.

The meal was so good that soon all controversy over the way it had been “hunted” was forgotten and the enmity between the geeks and the rugger buggers in general and Court and Prince in particular died down to a low simmer once again.

*

The group sat around the campfire their bellies suitably stuffed with their clam starters and barbecue pork mains. Full stomachs often make for contented diners and the talk around the fire fell to reminiscing about the good old days and the various scrapes and adventures people had got into , usually while, as Ian Prince put it, “Under the afflucence of incohol.”

They were part way through a round of “What’s the first thing you are going to do when we get back to civilisation?” , which also seemed to involve incohol, when Sean Rourke got up and left the fireside taking a couple of the larger more luscious green leaves from the nearby foliage.

“Where are you off to ? “ Asked Nalesh Mougal.

“Never ask a man where is going if he takes a bunch of leaves with him, “ advised Gareth Laney.

“Ah yes I see, “ said Mougal quick on the uptake, “do you need a torch?”

“Nah I think even I can find my arse with two hands in the dark,” replied Rourke.

“Well don’t fall in,” said Laney to much laughter round the camp.

They went back to their tall tale telling. A few minutes later there came a short sharp scream from the direction of the the latrine they had dug some days before. The group fell instantly silent and held its collective breath. They strained to hear more. A few quieter grunts and groans were heard and these were getting louder.

Gareth Laney and Ian Prince were just getting up to go in the direction of the noise when Rourke came rushing back into the circle his one hand clasping his trousers together round his waste. His face was bright red and sweaty.

“Snake, I’ve been bitten by a fucking snake,” he screamed half-hysterical.

“OK, remain calm, keep your heart rate down. Did you get to see what sort of snake it was? “ Asked Walker

“What, no? It was a snake, big one , yellow and green or something. I hit it with a rock and ran here.”

“OK, someone needs to go look for the snake, it might be helpful to know what it is.”

There was some reluctance to leave the safety of the fireside to go looking for what was clearly an aggressive snake. In the end Laney seized the initiative and picking out a branch with a large glowing ember from the fire he set off towards the latrine.

“Alright, “said Subbu, authoritatively , “in case it is serious we must locate the wound and suck out the poison. Where did it bite you?”

Rourke turned his back on the fire.

“I’m not quite sure, its stings everywhere down there,” he said bending forward and releasing the grip on his waistband.

The flickering firelight and pale light from the moon danced across the milky white skin of his buttocks and there dangling between them was a pair of hairy ginger bollocks. Clearly visible on the scrotum were two neat puncture marks, an angry looking red ring already spreading out from each one. There was a silence over the group save for sounds of mouths drying and lips puckering involuntarily.

“What, what is it?” asked Rourke starting to get hysterical again, “is it bad?”
“Well, err it could be better for us, “ said Subbu.

Everyone shifted uneasily from foot to foot for a few more seconds.

“Alright I’ll do it” said a voice from the edge of the group.

The crowd parted to let through this angel of mercy and Roger Benedict stepped into the circle of firelight. Without out any more ado he knelt down behind Rourke and tried to suck on his balls.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” cried Rourke and shot forward a couple of steps. He turned round to face his assailant. “Benedict, what the fuck do you think you are doing?”

“I’m trying to save your life,” he said “You’ve been bitten on your balls.”

“Jesus. Alright then.” Rourke bent back over and Benedict once again started to suck. It was at this point that Laney returned to the group carrying the limp remains of a snake in one hand. He looked on the scene with amazement.

“Fuck me is it that bad? Was this his dying wish or something?’

He was roundly shushed by a couple of people. Benedict withdrew his mouth and spat extravagantly to the side.

“Did you get it? “Asked Nalesh.

“How do I know?” said Benedict still trying to spit and get rid of any taste from his mouth.

“Well did it taste different?”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean? Different to what?”

“Oh ok yes good point, well was it bitter.”

“Yes,” said Benedict blankly, “bitter.”

They cast the torch light over where Benedict had spat and it was a mix of blood and a slight yellow grey fluid.

“I think you got it.”

Rourke stood upright, pulled up his trousers and turned round.

“Thanks” he mumbled, his chin pressed firmly into his chest.

“I think I’ll……” he trailed off and went to crawl into his bivouac.

*

There were a few minutes of awkward silence then Gareth Laney remembered what he was holding in his left hand.

“I got the snake,” he said throwing it down on the ground in front of the group.

A couple of people stepped back from it lest it still be able to harm them. The snake was about a metre long with acheckered pattern down it’s flanks and a broad flat head that ended in a smashed, blunted end where Rourke had hit it with the rock.

“It’s a cobra,” said Nalesh Mougal, “ good job we got the venom out.”

“Yeah, ‘we’,” Roger Benedict mumbled.”

“Are you sure it’s not got a flat head from where Rourkey hit it with the rock,” asked Laney half-seriously.

“Ha, no see where the sides leading up to the head flare out, and look a the spectacle shapes marked out on the back.” It was true in the pattern of scales on the flattened back of the snake’s head it looked like someone had drawn two lenses and linked them up with a long looping chain.

“Hmmm that’s odd…”

“What is , Nalesh”, Stephan asked.

“Well I’m pretty sure those spectacles mean this is an Indian cobra.”

“So what if it was an Indian cobra,” said Laney

“Well the clue is in the question, isn’t it” Esacam chimed in , “We are a very long way from India, we must be even with out flight deviations, so what is an Indian Cobra doing here?”

“You sure about this , Nalesh?” asked Stephan still not quite sure of the significance of the heritage of the snake, though an idea was forming at the back of his mind.

“Yes this is a specimen of Naja, Naja. The Indian Cobra and found only on the sub-continent.”

“Is that why it bit him in the nadgers then?” Laughed Laney and then the rest of the group , despite the seriousness of the situation couldn’t help but join in.

It had relieved the tension for now.