Ferry Master

ID: 1615574   (Rated: 18+) Ferry Master  Bruce meets an old colleague that he would rather not see again by UncleBun

Ferry Master
The jack hammer shudder of the old car ferry reversing engines made the passengers’ bones tremble as they braced to remain standing on the deck. The rattling of the ferry was creating involuntary spasms in the ten vehicles on board; her rumbling is such a low guttural sound it be coming from deep within her throat. Bruce was addicted to the power that he felt while guiding his ferry "Dhamuku" into the landing. It gave him a vivid flash-back to landing in the Iroquois helicopters that ferried him to war on his tour of duty in Vietnam over thirty years ago
He once again became that foot soldier sitting in panic with the apprehension of what was waiting for him when they hit the dirt in the jungle. He relived the stark terror of the unknown every time the chopper landed.

Each berthing of his ferry injected him with that same shot of adrenalin; the nightmare was returning. Every time stealth and self preservation insisted he lay face down in the Vietnamese mud he made a vow to be "the fucking ferry master not the fucking passenger next time" He never forgot seeing the Iroquois disappear back to relative safety while he was left to be shot, dismembered or - his most terrifying fear - tortured.

Any relationship he had had with his comrades in combat was wild, short and unpredictable. The Viet Cong took no account of which of them was Private Foster's mate. The killing and maiming of them was without regard. Bruce learnt that he was better off not having mates; it seemed impersonal that way, and helped to stop the tears when they didn't come back. Your fellow diggers just became statistics; you didn't care so much that way.

After returning home he kept the promise to himself of not being a passenger literally by becoming a ferry master. Having driven barges all over Australia in the last thirty years, there was never really a chance to settle anywhere. His only constant were the recurring nightmares and he had never developed any lasting mates. Nobody cared about the secret terror of his dreams and he didn’t talk about them. The matter was private; it was his issue to deal with.

While the ramp was still rattling down and almost before it hit the jetty, the cargo of cars started to disembark with a growling of their engines, leaving a trail of exhaust fumes as if re-enacting a street race.

"Impatient Pricks" Bruce muttered to himself , "Now those fucks have gone let's get ourselves to the boozer" that statement was directed at Rob, a skinny lad with dreadlocks who was playing deck hand and fare collector in his spare time while making a career of picking up female backpackers.

"Okay Brucey, start without me mate I've got somethin’ to attend to", Rob was already heading off towards the office to dump the takings for the day.

"It'll drop off one day Robbo" Bruce shouted after him. It was depressing to think he would be drinking in the pub on his own again. Raising two fingers over his head in a crude gesture without even turning around, Robbo replied without talking.

The bar was quiet, cool and refreshing after a day in the heat of the bridge and listening to the continual thumping of the motors. It wasn’t gloomy in the pub, just not as bright as the water with the relentless glare of the sun. The bar itself was set in the middle of the room with wooden top and tiled sides. Surrounded by well-worn chrome stools it was set out as if it was ready for the first session to start. Bruce's arrival raised the number of drinkers to four.

Two guys in a corner were sitting underneath a television screen that was showing the last race from somewhere, and over on the opposite side hidden from Bruce’s view was someone engaging the bar maid in conversation.

"Schooner of heavy, doll when ya ready", Bruce ordered without being asked.

"Sure Brucey darl be right with ya" the young lady behind the bar replied without looking up. Turning to him she said as an after thought, "Hey ya should come and meet Mike here, he is going to be working with ya apparently"

Bruce still couldn't see who Chrissie was talking to. The bar was a square-shape; in the centre was a row of shelves stacked high with bottles and glasses that blocked his view. He knew that when she had nothing else to do, she lived by the beer taps on that side of the bar.

"Come on then, be bloody sociable Brucey" she insisted.

Bruce now eased himself of his perch on the stool, and ambled around the corner to be with Chrissie and her new friend Mike.

It struck Bruce like a sledgehammer; he couldn't believe what he saw, he had to steady himself on the bar.

"This couldn't be for real, could it? Talk about evil fucking flashbacks, Holy shit." These words went through Bruce's mind as he moved round the bar to meet Chrissie's mate.

Bruce and Mike were staring at each other in horror and disbelief. Chrissie was oblivious to the initial reaction between the two men. She was shuffling Bruce's over gassed beer from one glass to another as she poured it. So intent on this she didn't notice that after recognizing Mike, Bruce dropped his outstretched hand to his side not allowing the other man to accept it.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Bruce ventured the first words.

"I could say the same fucking thing, looks like we might be working for the same outfit mate."

"Don't fucken call me mate"

It was difficult for an outsider to tell if this was friendly banter or serious conflict. Those astute in body language would have seen the subtle signs, such as the clenching of fists by Bruce and Mike’s hands on his hips as they glared at each other three feet apart.

"Here you go luv, three bucks fifty doll" Chrissie’s interruption doing nothing to settle the atmosphere. Leaving the change on the bar for the next round, Bruce paid for his beer.

"I've got the second barge over summer buddy" Mike was continuing "I didn't realize the other skipper was you but."

"What ya talkin' about" Bruce spat back.

"I gather you blokes know each other then?" Chrissie was no mental giant but she was picking up some kind of previous association between these two.

"Yeah, we were in ‘Nam together" Mike said

"Old war buddies?" Was Chrissie's reply

"Fucken opposite side I'd say" Bruce said in response to Chrissie’s comment.

"Keep it clean in front of the lady" Mike was trying to inject his authority.

"Thanks Miko" Chrissie said pushing her hair back in a manner designed to display how much of a lady she really was. "I like it when a man stands up for a fucken lady’s honour" she said.

"You've always been a bit rough with the ladies haven't you Bruce" Mike was starting to tell tales out of school.

"I won her fair and bloody square and we only took what we paid for." Bruce said in defence.

"You weren't entitled to take anything; she deserved respect and you deserved all you bloody got you bastard"

"She hadn't reformed, she wasn't your fucken property, we paid for her and we were fucking entitled to her, you piece of Navy shit." Slamming his glass on the bar, Bruce swept up his change and stormed out of the pub.

"What was all that about?" Chrissie was enthralled by the melodrama she could see playing out in front of her. It was happening in her own bar, this could be the most exciting thing that had ever happened in here and she wasn’t about to let it go without getting the full unabridged story. Filling up Mike's glass Chrissie insisted it was on the house. She leaned forward as far as she could on her elbows with her breasts on the bar and asked Mike to continue with his explanation.

"It was nothin'; it was a long time ago. I was working with the Military Police and I heard a ruckus going on in the soldiers' quarters. I walked into the room to find a group of four soldiers' playing cards and using a native girl as the prize. Bruce was getting stuck in from behind, and the rest of the guys were cheering him on." Mike had no problem recounting these events for Chrissie.

"So what did Bruce mean when he said she wasn't yours" Mike realised that Chrissie was more astute than he had thought.

"Doesn't matter" he responded

"Yes it does, what did he mean or do I have to ask him" Chrissie could not believe her luck having this wonderful gossip unfold in front of her. This would be her talking point for months to come.

"She'd given up the streets, she was under my care" Mike was softer and looking into his beer. "They were raping her"

"She was your girl friend" Chrissie corrected him.

"I suppose so" he was mumbling into his glass as if he was a naughty school boy who had been caught out.

"What happened to Bruce?"

"They wanted to believe she was paid for and there was far too much shit going on so the boys were not prosecuted but shipped back in disgrace and released from the services." Mike had lost his earlier venom and was now relaying the story dispassionately

"What happened to the girl?"

"She ran off that night, into the streets and I never saw her again. We searched but she just disappeared.

"That’s so sad, what about you, what happened to you Mike?"

"I finished my tour okay?" he said swallowing the last of his beer. He said his goodbyes and left the pub. The only bar patrons left were the same two guys who were still sitting in the corner watching the last race running somewhere else in the world.
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Engines thundered and the ferry shook and rattled as if in a huge earthquake. Bringing his craft to a shuddering halt, Mike threw the motors into reverse as he approached the mainland loading ramp. Bow ramp chains were rattling on the outgoing ferry as it raised its front door. The roar of the engines was deafening it drowned out the sound of Mike’s ferry as it gained the initial momentum required to drag the vessel from the landing.

January was mid summer and the early evening air made every pore run with sweat. Humidity sucked the tolerance and the physical strength from the body, creating an unsettled and irritable mood on the bridge of both vessels. The fluid loss from the heat forced the hardworking crews to drink. Strictly no alcohol was a rule while operating the ferry, a rule Mike constantly broke, he reckoned he was okay, he'd been drinking this much since his discharge and he reasoned it never affected him.

Lightning lit up the sky in the distance, the intermittent flashes brought sporadic and momentary periods of dusk-like daylight. The booming of the thunder was distant and understated. It wasn't clear if this summer storm was actually headed towards them. With the exception of the roar and growl of the car ferry engines, the air was still.
Two ferries were operating at this time of year, moving holiday-makers between the mainland and the out-lying islands of Moreton Bay. Bruce was late for his outgoing run and Mike was mad because of that. He couldn't understand why that bastard was never on time and how rule-breaking was a way of life for him.

Staring at Bruce's vessel, "Dhamuku" clearing its berth; Mike was watching that bastard in the lights of the bridge. Bruce’s deck hand was climbing the metal stairs that lead from the car deck to the bridge, and there were two girls following him. Mike watched as they mounted the steel stairs.

"No fucking passengers on the fucking bridge." Mike mouthed to himself while sucking on a can of beer, "More fucking rules broken"

"What the fuck?" he continued talking to himself;" You can't fuckin' do that" he was screaming now at the top of his voice. No one could hear him over the noise of the engines as he moved the boat backwards and closer to Bruce's vessel. With both barges in reverse, the stretch of boiling sea was closing between them. Mike was frantically waving his arms now; he was almost pleading rather than commanding the opposing captain.

On the bridge of "Dhamuku" Bruce and Rob were standing either side of two girls of Oriental appearance. Bruce was at the wheel backing the boat out. His boat was heading towards Mike’s as Bruce was moving out from the ramp. Mike was supposed to wait for Bruce to go first, but he appeared to back towards them. The gap was narrowing faster than Bruce had been expecting, far to fast to be safe.

"What the fuck's he up to Robbo?" Bruce was questioning his crew member.

"I dunno Bruce" was the obvious answer.

"He's fucking backing towards us, he should be giving us some sea space the prick."

"Bruce there's ladies present keep it down."

Turning his head away from the advancing boat for a second, Bruce was looking sheepishly at the two Chinese girls beside him. "I am sorry ladies. I get a bit frustrated when me fellow captains play silly buggers. I’ll try and keep me conversation gentlemanly" He reached his arms around them and patted them both on their bottoms.

The image of those on the bridge of "Dhamuku" was now very clear to Mike as his ferry was advancing rapidly backwards towards it. He could see that bastard Bruce with his hand on one of their bums.

"He has no respect for Vietnamese women, the prick. He won't be getting away with it this time. I won't be taking it to the fucking authorities this fucking time I'll sort it out my fucking self." Mikes alcohol- fuelled rage was altering his view of reality.

Dark clouds of fumes billowed from the snarling diesel engines and mingled with the turmoil of narrowing water between the ferries. Collision was now only metres away.

Lightning was cracking right overhead now and the rumbling thunder was much louder as it seemed to drown out the cacophony of the warring diesel engines.

Bruce took evasive action as hard and as fast as he could, he was conscious that as a part of his consignment he had a loaded fuel trailer. Wary of harming people and cargo by swinging the vessel around too quickly, and certain that if he didn't he was in for a collision, he became a little indecisive which made him move slower than he would normally.

He turned the boat while moving the throttle to full on forward and screamed "Hold on" to those near by. He was watching Mike’s ferry "Dambak" closing the gap between them. The crash was hard and heavy on the corner at the front ramp; the thud sent heavy shock waves through the car carrier. The "Dhamuku" was being forced sideways with a sickening grinding of metal on metal. Bruce could hear the high pitched screaming of people over the noise of the engines and the now raging weather. In a desperate move to get clear of the shoving "Dambak" he went full throttle forward, churning the sea even harder as black smoke blew from his boat’s short exhaust stacks.

The pushing and shoving from Mike was relentless with the decks vibrating as if in a large endless earthquake. The two vessels were stuck together and nothing Bruce could do could break them free from Mikes grip.

"Get the girls somewhere safe" Bruce was coming to his senses, there was no understanding what Mike was up to or what made him snap. Bruce knew he had to ensure the safety of his passengers and cargo.

"Where the fuck?" was Rob’s response.

"Use your brain, somewhere they're undercover and have something to hold onto, the passengers’ cabin below, get moving"

Lightning again lit the sky to full daylight, in that split second it was evident there was a hole in the side of Bruce's boat near the landing ramp and she was steadily taking on water. "Dambak" continued to push them and Bruce’s vessel was turning further round moving closer to the rock lined shore. The sea was whipping up violent white top waves as the wind built with the full fury of the squall that was now engulfing them all.

A hard water chain of driving rain was reducing vision and leaving no sense of direction. The small wiper on the bridge windscreen was struggling to keep up with the deluge of driven water and was compounding an already horrifying situation.

Mike eased up on his relentless pushing. Rob took this opportunity to open the door to the bridge and herd the girls down the slippery steps. The girls vainly tried to protect their heads with the back of their hands as the pelting rain stung their bodies all over. Heading away from the rocks Bruce was using the time that Mike had accidentally given him to straighten his vessel.

For a brief second it appeared like sanity had returned. In one sudden moment that sanity disappeared, "Dambak" returned and crashed into the leaking corner of "Dhamuku". The sky lit up with another momentous crack of lightning and thunder boomed so loud it was masking every other noise giving the evening a surreal sense of mime. In that moment of light Bruce saw Mike at the door of the bridge, his face contorted with rage and punching the air as if he was fighting someone in close contact.

Dhamuku shuddered and shook with the impact of the collision of "Dambak". There was an ear piercing scream. Realizing the shriek came from behind and not in front of him Bruce shouted out. "Robbo, what the fucks going on down there?"

Instantly Rob was at the door of the bridge, his face was as white like chalk and his body was dripping and trembling.

"She fucken' fell, I couldn't catch her. Bruce what the fuck do I do?" Panic was preventing Rob from functioning.

"Take over here; try to stay in the channel"

Pushing Rob in front of the controls, Bruce rushed from the bridge and down the stairs reaching the bottom in two bounds. The bow deck was taking more water than Bruce had expected and the entire car deck was covered in a deep layer of water. Lying at the foot of the stairs was the body of the girl who had just been in the bridge with him. Wailing over her was her companion, both girls were soaking wet. The door to the passenger's quarters was partly open and there was a group of faces all making garbled noises.
"What's going on?"

"Is she alright"

"How is she?"

No one was attempting to help the girls. Reaching over the bedraggled body, Bruce’s old army first aid training found its way back to the surface. As he ran his hands over the body it was obvious that limbs were broken. When he reached her head, the horror of the situation became clear to him. From a crack in her skull a mixture of blood and grey substance oozed, washing across the decks and mixing with the sludge and water. This girl was very dead, her head split completely open.

"The stupid senseless fuck, e's killed another one" Bruce was in tears.

He looked at her friend, "I’m Sorry there is nothing we can do. Go and get into the dry with the rest of them"

He could see in her face that she did not comprehend that her friend was no longer alive; wrapping his arms around her he led her to the passengers’ quarters. Pushing her through the door he spoke to half a dozen people without fixing his gaze on anyone of them.

"Please look after her, her friend is dead on the deck. There is nothing we can do, just stay inside and I will get us out of here." Bruce's voice was flat and matter of fact. As he left the room everyone was asking questions at once. He never made any attempt to answer them, he just shut the door behind himself, and giving another glance at the lifeless body on the deck returned to the bridge.

As he entered the bridge he reached for the radio hand piece with one hand and switched to the emergency channel with the other.

He spoke clearly and crisply as he called the rescue services, and requested help from the police and emergency. His vessel was still being shunted by Mike. The boats were tangled together and Rob had done a good job at keeping plenty of water under his boat.
Bruce let himself smile a little “The little fucker had being learning somethin other than picking up sheilas”

Changing the channel on his radio to the ferries working channel, he again spoke clear and slow.

"You stupid Fuck Mike, you've killed another innocent bitch, you won't get away with this one."

There was no answer, only a moment of stillness and quiet as the rain continued to batter the windscreen of the bridge. Bruce reached over and changed the radio back to the emergency channel where the base was asking him to move to a working frequency.

Lightning provided a vivid view of "Dambak", and Bruce could see, standing by the bridge door, a man with a rifle trained directly at him. Instinct made him dropped to the floor dragging Rob with him; he heard the smash of broken glass as a bullet passed neatly through the windscreen.

Bruce was still holding the handset he immediately put it to his mouth to relay his situation back to search and rescue. The crashing of the accompanying thunder was drowning out his words as he spoke, forcing him to yell into the microphone.

Bruce peered over the console to see what was happening, Under "Dambak’s" bridge light he could see the shadows of two people moving up the stairs behind Mike. Mike was still intent on looking down the sights of his firearm. There was an ensuing struggle that was played out in slow motion. In a surprise attack the two strangers knocked Mike to the ground and after a fierce struggle removed the weapon from him. A Bruce watched on with his eyes just above the bridge console it all seemed so easy in the end.

"Thank Fuck" Bruce breathed heavily

The rain and the wind had dropped as the storm moved further north. Within minutes of Mike being restrained, "Dambak" was backing away under the control of the strangers. Calmness had returned; the only evidence of that horrific half hour was the sprawled body on the car deck, two neat bullet holes in the windscreen and a twisted gap between the bow loading ramp and the side of the boat.
Out of the blue a sublime world had changed to chaos and back again leaving one innocent girl dead.
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Propping himself up against the bar, Bruce reached for the cold schooner of VB that Chrissie had just finished pouring. This was his first time out in the week since the incident with Mike. His ferry was being repaired and he had been occupied with police and today he had said farewell to the poor young Chinese lady who had inadvertently been involved in the horror last week because she had the miss fortune of being attracted to Rob.

The bar was quiet as usual with only a handful of other patrons sitting in corners drinking.

Chrissie leaned over to Rob and reached for his hand. "So what really happened?" she asked.

"You read the paper" Bruce never gave away much.

"No, not out there, in Vietnam, what really happened?

"Didn't he tell you?"

"He said you got shipped back for suspected rape."

Without a change in expression on his solemn face, Bruce took a deep breath and spoke into his glass. "He said that? Well he would have I suppose. We think he shot her out of rage. We think he shot her because she was workin the streets again. I can't say for sure but I think it was me who killed her indirectly by hirin her for the card game." Bruce hesitated and then continued. "They couldn't prove it so they sent him home, the night I met him here was the first time I seen him since."