Читать книгу Cops, Crocs & Leopard-Skin Jocks - Bob Magor - Страница 12

A combination of heat and Roy’s orders had me out of my swag long before dawn. The horse meat was getting past its use-by date but I assumed the crabs wouldn’t care. The dogs didn’t either as they rubbed around my legs looking hopeful.

As I walked back to the main camp to wash my hands I spotted Anne’s shadowy form knocking up breakfast. What a girl! As we shared a brew in the darkness and waited for Roy to get out of bed Anne told me how her brother always loved his fighting. ‘Even as a kid he’d go down the beach and talk his mates into having a bit of a play fight. “Let’s have some fun and get a bit of exercise,” he’d say. He’d take on three of them playing around and sparring, but eventually one would accidentally clip him and he’d forget they were his mates. Next thing they’d be on the ground and he’d be apologising. It happened every time but because they idolised him they came back for more.

‘He eventually took up boxing in the amateur clubs during his teens and had trophies to show his success. This new talent, of course, made him a brawler around town. There were usually only two hits – he hit someone and they hit the ground! It usually meant that the police also became involved. Bad Roy!’

‘Who’s bad?’ Roy asked as he descended from his caravan. ‘You done that crab bait?’

‘It’s in the boat, Roy,’ I replied.

‘Those bloody dogs better not have eaten it or you’ll be in strife,’ he growled. He grabbed a couple of slices of toast and jam that Anne was about to eat and yelled, ‘Let’s get moving. No time to stand around gossiping when there’s work to be done!’ It seemed that Roy wasn’t a morning person. Once in the boat we took off flat strap, with his trademark Yeehah filling the air.

‘During this part of my Kimberley life,’ Roy said as we headed up the glassy Wearyan River towards the open sea, ‘I had a go in the tents for awhile. These days Fred Brophy is a good mate of mine but I never fought for him. I did, however, fight with Larry Dulhunty’s troupe at that time. I’d follow him around and help put up his tent. He went on to become a legend but when I first met him all he had was bucking horses and did trick shooting and whip cracking. Sometimes he had a country singer with him to entertain. I’d join his boxing troupe when he came to the Kimberley but you never made much money. You really only fought for fun, which was really all I was after.

‘I fought for Roy Bell from Darwin a few times. We’d do Derby and then Halls Creek on the race circuit. After that we’d do Broome and then back to Derby. He had a bloke fighting for him called the Brown Bomber. He and I would put on exhibition fights. It was all geeing. I’d give him an open-handed whack on the elbow and a hard smack on top of his bald head with the gloves. He’d duck his head and stagger back and then he’d – whack, whack – on my arms and I’d stagger back. It was all an act but the crowds loved it.

‘The proper fights would start when our play-acting got the locals all fired up and they’d step up out of the audience to make a name for themselves. They didn’t have a chance because we were fit and sober and had our own referee. They won a prize if they lasted three rounds but they never collected while I was fighting.

‘The rest of the time I’d help run his sideshows. He had all the usual con jobs with balls and stuffed toy prizes. No-one won much but it was all good fun and a highlight of the year for the people who lived in these isolated towns.

‘Later, when I got to Darwin, I had a real go at professional fighting. I only had two fights and lost them both. It was all shonky. The first time I had an old bloke called Vincent Rowe from Broome in my corner. At the end of the first round I was doing all right. I don’t think I was supposed to be doing so well. Anyway, old Vincent told me to drink this bottle of water. I was thirsty so – glug, glug, glug – I downed the lot. He didn’t tell me to spit it out. I came out for the second round and I was blown up like a poisoned pup and got killed. He apologised afterwards for not stopping me from swallowing the water, but I think it was all part of the plan.

‘The second time I was supposed to fight a bloke from Darwin but he didn’t turn up. In his place they gave me a fighter from down south who was way out of my league and really knew what he was doing. He sat me on my arse a dozen times before they called the fight off. That was the end of my boxing career. I think the whole scene was shonkier than me. I was more a street fighter and these blokes with technique had it all over the likes of me.

‘The worst place to hide is where there’s not many people. In the outback there’s a lot of space and a few people but they all know each other on a first name basis. A new boy on the block soon stands out and the bush telegraph announces to vast areas that he’s there. Especially if he has a reputation as an ex-con and a brawler.

‘When they ran me out of Broome I left Angie and Josephine behind and transferred operations to Derby. The same old lurk. I wasn’t working. Just selling sly grog to the blackfellas. A mate and I were living in a tent out by Myall bore. I got pounded by the coppers because my reputation had followed me from Broome. The Latham family lived at the bore as well. They were yella fellas. A nice mob but it was the same old story from the cops. “If we see you living with this known criminal we’ll lock you up for consorting.” That tended to make me a bit of a loner.

‘It all came to a head one day when an old police sergeant stopped me on the footpath in town. He said he was going to arrest me for fighting in the street. For backup he had a big young copper with him who was full of his own importance. They wanted me to empty out my pockets. Being half-smart I told them if they wanted to see the contents they should do it themselves – or words to that effect. The young cop drove his hand into my pocket but as he did I hit him in the stomach. As he doubled up, I ran across the road in front of the police station to escape.

‘I’d left him gasping for breath but he managed to climb aboard the police Willys jeep with the old Sergeant and they took off after me. I grabbed a lemonade bottle on the run and threw it at their windscreen to try and smash it but it missed and just put a big ding in the bonnet.

‘By the way the sergeant was swearing, my actions didn’t impress him very much. They herded me into a high fence and he jumped out of the jeep and grabbed me. I swung him around against the barb wire and pushed my chest into him as I drove his back into the barbs.

‘Let me go, Sergeant!’ I yelled as I felt him squirm.

‘By this time the young copper had recovered and when he turned up he wasn’t a happy camper. He lifted my arms up into a full nelson behind my back and slammed me face down into the pavement. That smashed my two front teeth. The sergeant had blood on the back of his shirt, but it was nothing compared to what was coming from my mouth.

‘From a simple stroll up the street I got twelve months for escaping from custody. They sent me to Fremantle Gaol. Well, a rest is as good as a holiday. I was ready for a real roof over my head and some good home-cooked meals. I was in there when President Kennedy got shot and when Mohammed Ali fought Sunny Liston. It’s funny how you remember where you were when things happened. Thankfully, I wasn’t on hard labour and I made a lot of friends inside, so it wasn’t an unpleasant stay.

‘I’ve always been amazed how trouble follows me. I did my time and, on release, I immediately hitched a ride to Carnarvon. I’d enjoyed my time inside but it was now time to try and have a normal life – whatever that was!

‘I was sitting in the Port Hotel having a lemon squash and enjoying my new-found freedom when I ran into a young lady I’d previously known in Port Hedland. We’d had a sort of relationship before and had got on pretty well together. I told her that she was going to Broome with me and she agreed that it sounded like a good idea. Just as we were getting cosy, a big blonde bloke, who turned out to be her current boyfriend, turned up and said that she wasn’t going anywhere, with me or anyone else. I tried to explain to him that he was being unreasonable because I was the better man, but he just got all shitty. The next thing it was on.

‘I’m getting the better of him when two blokes at the bar decide they want a piece of the action and come at me from behind. One grabs one of my arms and tries to pin it against the bar. I’ve got the other arm free and enough leverage to split his face open. This convinces him to let go. Then I get stuck into the other cove. There’s glasses and tables going in all directions. But the big blond bloke had lost interest. He grabs my potential girlfriend and shoots through to nurse his wounds.

‘The bloke who owned the pub later went on to become a famous politician so I’d better not mention his name. Anyway, between him and a few others they held me until some cops arrived. Then I found out that the two blokes I’d flattened were two off-duty police officers.

‘I tried to protest my innocence but no-one wanted to listen, especially the two bleeding coppers. They threw me in a cell in town to await the travelling magistrate, who was due in a day or two. I was pretty peeved when they threw me in the slammer so I put my feet up and went to sleep while I pondered the injustices of life. All I’d wanted was a woman after a year in boob and that had got me back in trouble. Bloody women!

‘When I woke up the next morning I quickly checked out my cell. It was a hell of a mess. There were scissors and half-burnt western books and even some bones. I grabbed one of the bones and scratched, Roy Wright was here, on the ceiling. As I read a burnt western I began to think. I’d been in lots of cells before but I’d never seen one as full of shit as this one. There was junk everywhere. The whole place smelt funny too, so I had a better look at the contents of my cell. I nearly shit myself when I found a skull with the hair burnt right back to the skin. “Let me out you bastards!” I started bellowing.

“You can’t put me in a place like this you dirty dogs!”

‘One of the coppers I’d belted the night before came in grinning through bits of sticky plaster. He thought it was a hell of a joke. What had happened was that there’d been a caravan fire in town a few days before. The cops had put all the burnt contents in the cell while they were waiting for someone from forensics to come from Perth and comb through the remains to try and work out if there had been any foul play. The cops had thought the remains of the corpse would be a fitting companion for me to spend the night with. Bastards!

‘When they arrested me I’d given them the false name of John Werner Brokavitz. They’d sent my fingerprints to Perth and surprisingly come up with the name Roy James Wright. Next thing I’m up before the Stipendiary Magistrate. My luck was running well because he was the same one that sent me to Fremantle Gaol and had let me out of there a couple of days before.

‘He didn’t appear very impressed when he said, “Wright. You’re incorrigible. You’re a menace to society!” ‘I tried to profess my innocence. Rightly for a change. I said it was only a blue over a girl. I’d been locked up for twelve months and a man’s gotta do what man’s gotta do. If I knew the two cops were cops I’d have sat straight down and behaved myself. They never said they were cops so I was quite entitled to defend myself from two blokes who I thought were trying to stitch me up. One of the cops in question was in court in uniform with a big rip across his nose so the evidence of my crime was there for all to see.

‘The magistrate gave me a long hard look.

‘ “I don’t know,” he said. “I almost believe that you didn’t know the two constables were police but I’ve got to give you three months for disorderly conduct, fighting in a public place and giving a false name.”

‘I asked about the big blond bloke who threw the first punch but the magistrate wasn’t interested. Rumour was that he’d left town with my almost girlfriend.

‘They gave me three months in Geraldton Gaol and I hated it. A few days after I got there I said to the superintendent, “Look, sir. How about a transfer to Fremantle to be with my mates. That’s not a big ask seeing how I’ve been framed!” He rolled his eyes and looked at me.

‘ “Three months isn’t long enough to warrant all the paper work so you’re staying at Geraldton.”

‘ “I’m not happy!” I told him. “I’m going to piss off.”

‘He glared at me and said, “You mean you’re going to escape?”

‘ “Bloody oath!” I replied.

‘He laughed and said, “In that case I’ll make it easy for you.” He drove me eight miles out of town to where they were building a new gaol. All that was there were lots of pegs in the ground and string lines. He gave me some bottles of water with a couple of sandwiches. As he left he said, “See that string line around the outside? I want a two-yard strip cleared of stones on both sides the whole way around.”

‘I grinned at him. “You don’t really expect me to be here when you come back?”

‘ “Well that’s up to you,” he said, with a funny look on his face. “This area here is legally a prison even though there are no walls. If you’re not here when I come back you will have escaped from gaol and that will be another twelve months when we catch you. Here’s your big chance to go.”

‘He came back at five o’clock and I’d cleared about three hundred yards along the string line. We got on pretty well after that and I even got three days early release for good behaviour. That was a first!

‘When I did my time I went back to Broome to Angie and my daughter but the relationship had soured. While I’d been in boob she’d moved on. I decided it was time for me to move on as well so I headed for Darwin to start again. I was pretty thick but I was starting to realise that I was wasting a lot of my life being locked up. A fresh pasture was going to start with the turning over of my new leaf. Well … I had good intentions.’

‘Over to the left,’ Allan waved as we came into sight of the pot line. Roy had been engrossed in his story and wasn’t concentrating. With Allan in the boat I just sat up the front and watched in awe as the catch was sorted and trussed up in a blur of fingers amongst the lethal nippers. I didn’t mention how impressed I was because I feared Roy would make tying angry crabs part of my Top End education.