BEDTIME STORY

Taupo Times, Volume III, Issue 120, 14 May 1954, Page 8

BEDTIME STORY

IN THE WET % — — This is a story with a moral, at at the beginning instead of the end, where all good morals are usually put. This particular moral is, that one should never judge by appearances. The trouble is that most people do. That, however, is a reflection on the people, not on the moral.

Once upon a time there was a newspaper man who lived with his wife and family in the peaceful seaside retreat of Day's Bay, on the other, side of the harbour; from the capital city of Wellington. He was enjoying a Friday to Sunday night week-end off , when he realised that he had nothing to read. He decided to pay a flying visit to the city, leaving the Bay by the 4.30 p.m. ferry boat, due in the city at 5.15 p.m., and leaving for Ihome again by the 6.15 p.m. boat. I This would give him an hour to get a book for his wife, one for himself, an evening paper, two pounds of nails and one pound of sausages. Later, errands accomplished, he was stepping on it en route to the wharf when a friend hailed him.

"What about it?" "Can't — catching a boat!" Fleeing the tempter, he made it just as the deck-hand was unshipping the gang-way. The old ferry boat — the Cobar — was a two-decker, the upper reserved for people who didn't like smoking, the lower frequented by those who liked a lot of it. Our friend went below, and became immediately immersed in his book, which, by a somewhat sinister coincidence, was Chesterton's detective story, "The Innocence of Father Brown." So immersed did he become that he was startled to hear the engineroom telegraph and realise that he was at his destination.

There were two ports of call — Day's Bay, where the boats tied, up along' the side, the other at Rona Bay, where they berthed at the end. j Passengers getting off at Day's Bay turned at right angles to walk off the wharf. At Rona Bay they came off the gangway and walked straight ahead. In a brown study (a "Father Brown" study, in fact) over the problem posed in his book our hero failed to notice that the boat, unusually, had called at Rona Bay first. Hurrying off the gangway, he turned at right angles and tripped over the low parapet into fathoms of icy-cold water. It was mid-winter, the sea was I as smooth as glass. He had on a heavy overcoat, in a pocket of which were the nails, while he carried the books, paper and sausages under his arm. His feeling as he hit the water was not so much alarm as intense surprise. He had no idea that he had got off at the wrong wharf. Coming up for air he grabbed a stringer of the wharf, and was hauled up out of the water at the end of a rope. He had a swig from a flask that was handed to him, and over-heard the following remarks: "Isn't he a cool customer! He's still got his cigarette in his mouth!" (A woman). "That drunken Mr So-and-so did the self-same thing last week" — (Another woman). He went down to the stoke-hold to warm himself till the boat got [ to Day's Bay, and eventually got to ? his home. • Appearances were

against him. He smelt of the, brandy he had been given. "It'll be all over the Bay tomorrow," said his wife. "The point is that you haven't got a corpse on your hands," he said and went on to explain. On the Sunday night he reported back to the office, and went in to see the Old Man about the article that had to be written. The Old Man was filling his pipe and looked up with a grin. "I hear you got rather wet the other night," he said. "Rater wet?— Oh, that,", said the other. "I'd better tell you what really happened," he said. "Fire away," said the Old Man, lighting his pipe. So the tale was unfolded, with scrupulous emphasis on the time schedule of the trip, so that there might be no misunderstanding. When it was finished: "It's a good story," said the Old Man, still grinning. "It's a true story," said the other, irritably, "Pure absence of mind." "No doubt, my boy, but nobody'll believe it." And nobody did.

_"D"