 
            
          
          Some very fishy stories! 
          
          
          
          The Captains Parting Gift 
          Revenge is 
          sweet, even if you’re not there to see the result! 
          
          
          Full Service – The Chief’s Kipper 
          So you want 
          kippers do you? 
            
            
            
            
          
          
          For 
          some time now, the Captain had been acting strangely, so it came as no 
          surprise to hear that he was to be paid off in Auckland and sent home. 
          He’d 
          been getting worse for a  while now, and although we had never seen 
          him do anything outrageous, we had to admit that it was somewhat 
          peculiar to find him wandering the Engineer’s alleyways, singing 
          ‘Jingle Bells’ in the middle of June. 
          
          It 
          was no secret that the Captain had little time for the Chief Engineer, 
          who had the misfortune to be both a Geordie, and an alcoholic, though 
          we were assured that the two afflictions didn’t necessarily always go 
          together. 
          
          On 
          the morning following our arrival into Auckland, we three Engineer’s 
          stewards were going about our everyday duties, and were a little 
          surprised to find Captain Mason patrolling the alleyways, looking 
          undeniably furtive. 
          
          “Ah, 
          morning Young,” he said upon turning a corner and almost falling over 
          the rolled up alleyway runner. 
          
          
          “Morning Sir, lovely morning.”  
          
          “Yes, 
          I’m just off, saying my goodbye’s, you haven’t seen the Chief anywhere 
          have you?” 
          
          “No 
          Sir, he’s usually down below at this time of day,” I ventured. 
          
          “Yes, 
          well, silly of me, I’ll just leave him a note in his day room.” 
          
          He 
          strode up the alleyway toward the Chief’s suite. Some minutes later, I 
          saw my mate, John Braybrook, the Chief Engineer’s steward. “Did you 
          see the Old Man just now?”  
          
          
          “Yeah, said he was looking for the Chief to say goodbye.” 
          
          
          “That’s strange,” said John, “he came into the Chief’s day room and 
          told me to do something else while he wrote the Chief a note.” 
          
          
          “Yeah, well, you know the poor old bugger is going Doolally,” I said. 
          I’d been with Captain Mason for a couple of years, and would be sorry 
          to see him go. 
          
          We 
          thought nothing more about it, and soon forgot all about it. 
          
          About 
          a couple of days later, I went up to the Chief Engineer’s cabin to 
          talk to John. “Cor, blimey,” I said, “it don’t half pen and ink in’ere.” 
          
          
          “Yeah, I know, an’ it’s getting worse. I can’t find where it’s coming 
          from.” 
          
          The 
          Chief, being an alcoholic, had a habit of hiding all his empty cans 
          behind the day – bed, or under his bunk, wherever he thought they 
          wouldn’t be found. The Chief’s grog tap had been suspended and if 
          caught giving him booze, we were under threat of being logged. 
          
          “I 
          know the smell is in the day room, but I’m buggered if I know where.” 
          
          
          “Never mind mate,” you’ll probably find it as the stench gets 
          stronger.” 
          
          As 
          the days wore on, the smell in the Chief’s cabin became worse and 
          worse. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t stand to be anywhere near that 
          end of the alleyway. 
          
          John 
          kept looking but couldn’t find the offending article, and even the 
          Chief had noticed it by now. The more John searched, the more of the 
          Chief’s empties he found, but it wasn’t until about another week later 
          that he finally found the cause of the trouble. 
          
          “’Ere 
          Billy, you won’t believe it, but I’ve found the stink in the Chief’s 
          day room.” 
          
          
          “Thank Christ for that,” I said, “ It’s enough to gag a maggot! What 
          was it?” 
          
          
          “Remember when the Old Man wanted to leave something for the Chief? 
          Well, he did all right. The bastard nailed a frozen fish behind a 
          drawer in the Chief’s writing desk. There was a note on the nail. It 
          read, Chew the lumps out of this, you bastard.” 
            
            
            
            
          
          
          I’d 
          been working by on the Suevic, and had been offered the engineer’s 
          steward’s job for the next trip. I was made up because this would be 
          my first deep-sea trip as an A/S, and my first “across the line.” 
          
          
          Gradually, a few of the stewards from the previous trip rejoined the 
          Suevic and we had a full compliment. 
          
          As 
          was usual, after serving breakfast, we ate our own in the dinning 
          room, and to break the ice, the Pantry man / Chief Engineer’s Steward, 
          from last trip told us why they had to replace the Captain’s Tiger. 
          
          It 
          seems that the Tiger and the Chief Engineer didn’t get on at all, and 
          the Tiger had gone out of his way to be belligerent and bloody minded 
          when it came to anything concerning the Chief. 
          
          One 
          morning, at breakfast, the Chief was the first to arrive at the 
          Captain’s table. He perused the menu and ordered the kipper. 
          
          The 
          mate arrived just as the Tiger approached the pantry door, and called 
          out that he would have a double egg breakfast. The Tiger acknowledged, 
          and disappeared into the pantry and ordered the meals. 
          
          “One 
          double egg breakfast, and one kipper, make it a crook one.” He leaned 
          over the hot press as the pantry man chose a succulent kipper for the 
          captain’s table. “Not that one John, he said that’s far too good for 
          that bloody ginger beer, give us that manky one on the end.” 
          
          The 
          kipper the Tiger pointed out was right at the end of the poaching 
          tray, which over the course of time had warped out of shape. There was 
          no way that the kippers at that end of the tray would be covered in 
          water. It’s ribs stuck out of the dried flesh, which had shrunk and 
          shriveled and stuck to the tray. 
          
           “You 
          can’t serve that up,” said John, “watch me,” answered the Tiger 
          chipping the fish off the tray with the slice. 
          
          The 
          two plates were carried into the dinning saloon, and served to their 
          respective owners. The Chief Engineer looked down at his plate, and 
          studied the dried offering in front of him. He looked across at the 
          mate’s breakfast, two freshly fried eggs, bacon and tomatoes. 
          “Steward, I’ve changed my mind, I think I’ll have the double egg 
          breakfast instead.” Tiger sneered and picked up the offending kipper, 
          before taking the Chief Steward’s order for kipper, and walked back to 
          the pantry. 
          
          “One 
          kipper, bona, and one double egg breakfast naf,”  
          
          A 
          fresh, succulent kipper in the center of the tray was picked out, 
          drained of excess liquid, and served onto a plate. Two dried out, long 
          overcooked fried eggs, a couple of brittle pieces of bacon, and a 
          couple of pieces of dry tomatoes completed the Chief Engineer’s plate. 
          “Lovely,” said the Tiger, and walked into the saloon. 
          
          The 
          Chief Engineer looked at his own plate, and then studied the Chief 
          Steward’s. “I’ve changed my mind again Steward, take this away, and 
          give me the kipper.” 
          
          The 
          offending plate was removed, and The Tiger returned with the original, 
          revolting kipper, and served it to the Chief Engineer. The scene was 
          repeated, with the Chief Engineer studying the other plates at the 
          table, then he said,” I’ve changed my mind again steward, I’ll have 
          the double egg and bacon.” 
          It 
          was all too much for the Tiger, who picked up the kipper by the tail. 
          And slapped it across the Chief engineer’s face, at the same time, 
          screaming, “You want kipper, you don’t want kipper, you want kipper, 
          you don’t want kipper, make your f*****g mind up! 
            
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