SF. Pt.17. Soper's Hole.

If you’ve just joined us (Why? Are you falling apart ha, ha) I’m Dick Headley. I don’t actually write this stuff. Chuck Woww does that, I think he does anyway. Hard to tell sometimes.

I live on a boat. I probably mentioned that already. Not showing off or anything. It’s just a fact. I’ve got an all girl crew I picked up in South East Asia. Good bunch. Perhaps this might be a good time to introduce them all. There’s Ning and Nong. I rescued them from sexual slavery. Found them working in a bar in Thailand. Nice girls. They do the cooking and all that. I like spicy food. They also practice ancient Thai arts like massage and manicure and keep the cabin tidy. Then there’s Nyum. She’s our navigator. We got across the Pacific OK thanks mainly to her. She has a natural talent for navigation does Nyum. She’s lead a very interesting life. Her father was a dentist in Saigon. He was also a Recidivist. I looked it up. That’s someone who starts to have second thoughts about Communism. People like that got sent away for Re-education. I’m glad I wasn’t a Recidivist in Vietnam. I would have hated being sent away for Re-education. Come to think of it I don’t think I would have made a very good Communist at all. Nyum’s father didn’t like the idea of being Re-educated either. Somehow he managed to get himself, his wife and Nyum on a leaky boat. But it didn’t do him much good. His plan was to get to America and make false teeth for horses but he was drowned with Nyum’s mother in the Gulf of Thailand after being robbed and thrown off the leaky boat by Thai fishermen. Nyum drifted around for few days clinging to an empty packing crate. She thinks this is when she learned Celestial Navigation. A Russian freighter picked her up and took her to an internment camp in Hong Kong where she learned English watching TV.

People often ask me what it’s like living with three girls. How do you keep them all happy Dick? Is there any discipline involved? Well no not really. I’m not saying I don’t have problems but nothing I can’t handle. It’s all done with credit cards.

We stopped a few times in places like Tahiti and the Galapagos Islands but I won’t bore you with that. Then it was through the Panama Canal without too much duty-free shopping and into the Caribbean. I knew my old mate Oscar Pruriente had bought an island in BVI. Why not visit him I thought. So after a short stop in the Caymans to see my bank manager and a break in Montego Bay we picked up a nice wind south of Haiti that took us all the way to BVI.

And here we are in Soper’s Hole. It’s a very nice little Marina on the West end of Tortola ($1 per foot per night for monohull. Cable $5.) Suits us fine. Oscar’s island is just a short sail away but I’m not ready to go and see him just yet. He’s a crafty bastard is Oscar. I wouldn’t put anything past him and my instincts tell me not to go rushing over there. Plenty to do here anyway. E-mail, odd jobs on the boat, catch up on some reading etc..

This would be a good time to do some washing. There’s a launderette in town but the girls tend to get lazy if you spoil them so I get them out on the jetty with a bar of soap. I like watching Thai girls wash clothes and it always gets the other yachties attention. Not that I want to upset anybody but it gives me an opportunity to meet the neighbours.

I met a couple this morning. I’d just got the girls scrubbing nicely when some old bag on the next boat sticks her scrawny head up and says...

“Excuse me, you do realize that all the waste matter finds its way back into the ecosystem don’t you?”

“Well yes of course,” say I, “Don’t tell me you never pissed off the transom?”

“Hmmph,” she says, “that’s hardly the point. Urine is not the same as PCBs you know.”

“Ah,” says I quick as a flash, “that’s why we only use organic soap. Not the stuff made of palm oil of course which is bad for the rainforest. We like the kind made with olive oil. Especially if it’s got a bit of corn meal mixed in. Helps get the tramlines out of underpants.”

I’m thinking of telling her how repulsive she looks in a bikini when her old man pops up.
“Hallo,” says he, catching a nice glimpse of Ning’s tits as she bends over, “spot of laundry? Good show.”
“Yes,” I say, “very good show. You should have seen her when she was dancing in Soi Cowboy. Blokes were lined up down the street to pay her barfine. Ever been to Bangkok?” He gives me a sad little smile, like he’s got my number, and goes back to whatever he was doing. Times crossword most likely.

Then a few minutes later he’s back and giving me funny looks. You meet a lot of twits down here. Princess Di’s butler, M.I.5. asassins, you know the type. Can’t remember how many blokes I’ve met who were at school with Keith Richards. Shared fags with him in the bikesheds they did. Could have been famous.
“Excuse me but have I seen you before somewhere?” this one asks.
“Wanted posters maybe?” I quip.
“I’ve got it! You’re Dick Headley aren’t you? The football chap.”
“Guilty as charged. Who might you be?”
“Julian Snagge Q.C. Retired. I used to be a magistrate.”
Bloody hell! I’m thinking. It’s the bloke who did me for dexies years ago. The bastard screwed up my soccer career. Small world innit. He’s obviously forgotten all about it so I don’t let on I know him like. Still there’s bit of an awkward silence for a moment as we both think back then he says, “Look can I buy you a drink sometime?”
“That would be nice,” I say, “why don’t we meet in Bomba’s later on….er….just the two of us OK?”
“Bomba’s? I don’t think I know it.”
“Apple Bay. Just up the road. Get a taxi.”

When the girls have finished the laundry I take everybody to Pusser’s Landing. They do a very nice pie, chips and gravy (if you know the chef). You can wash it down with a frosty pint of John Courage Draft Beer. The girls go for the Down Island Baby Back Ribs marinated with Pusser’s Creole Seasoning, slow smoked and char-grilled while basted in Caribbean ginger or Caribbean spiced barbecue sauce. Served with fries, coleslaw and corn on the cob ~ $23.95. Then we sit on the patio with the other rich idle cunts and watch the boats coming and going in the harbour. Did I mention Pusser's Rum Painkiller? It’s a kind of special cocktail they have. Perfect for contemplation. Fancy running into Sir Julian!

So after a nap and a bite to eat I leave the crew watching “Survivor” and take a taxi out to Bomba’s Shack where I find Julian waiting. Turns out he’s a rum drinker so we order up a bottle of Pusser’s Original Old Navy. Sailors in the old days used to get a pint a day of this stuff every day. Extra before battle. Even the gunners.

“That was quite a shock seeing you today like that Headley.” Says Sir. J.
“Call me Dick. Yes funny how things happen isn’t it?” I’m guessing this is Julian’s first time in Bomba’s. It’s an odd place. Made out of driftwood and old hubcaps. There’s graffiti all over the walls and bras and panties dangling everywhere. I spot Bomba in his usual place behind the bar. He’s a big black geezer. I give him a wave but he probably doesn’t remember me. He meets a lot of people. Me and Julian talk about this and that. London in the sixties, Arsenal, boats and the sailing thereof. He still hasn’t remembered giving me six months for Dexies so I don’t mention how bent the Flying Squad was in those days. I notice he’s tucking into the rum so I order another bottle.
“Like the Pusser’s do you Julian?”
“Love it,” says he,“can you keep a secret Dick?”
“Course.”
“Well between you and me I have been to Bangkok. More than once.”
“Really?” I’m glad I brought the tape recorder now. This is going to cost the bugger. “On business I suppose?”
“Well yes and no. I went to a conference in Singapore the first time and some of the chaps wanted to look do a little side-trip if you know what I mean.”
“To Bangkok?”
“Yes. See some of these dens of iniquity one hears so much about.”
“Like Patpong and that? Get your winkle wet did you?”
“Oh indeed I did Dick. You know how it is there I see. Well of course one thing lead to another and, to be perfectly frank, I developed a bit of a taste for it.”
“It can happen Julian. Similar thing with me really...” and so on. I let Julian do the talking. It was like he had all the stuff dammed up inside his head and I was his best mate. Somewhere along the line he mentioned my crew.
“I must say Dick those are some saucy little vixens you have on your boat. You’re a lucky fellow. I’m stuck with Lydia.”
“Yes I noticed. Tell you what Julian. I could fix you up with one of the girls if you fancy it.”
“Ha, ha. Good one Dick.” He’s well pissed by now.
“I’m serious. Have a couple if you like. They like a change. Borrow my boat. Get ’em up the foc’sle.” Got him thinking now I have. This is the best thing to happen to him for some time. He’s half-cut but not quite all the way yet. He’s probably wondering how he can get away with it. It’s that legal mind at work.
“This is awfully decent of you Dick. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
“No problem mate. Bring the missus if you like.”

After the third bottle he’s in the mood for a bit of a sing-song but I don’t want to wake up everybody in Soper’s Hole. I get him back to the Marina OK and put him on the right boat. Hope I did anyway. Or somebody’s going to get a nasty shock in the morning.