The Killer Koala (18 page)

I
hadn't thought it possible for me to get into the boat unaided, but I
did then. And neither the powers of heaven and hell or even Bill
could get me out of it again until we touched the home wharf.

I
had a farewell drink with Bill the next day, anxious to discuss my
adventure, but all he could talk about was the groper. It was the
biggest one he'd ever seen. Three metres long at least. I swear it
was fifteen.

My
lesson learned, I now intend to pass on to my grandchildren the one
piece of wisdom I have ever acquired: never drink rum in the morning
at a pub in Airlie with a man named Bill.

Six Taipans

It
is my custom to wander around the countryside picking up stories that
I later incorporate in or make the subject of novels. The situations
that one observes almost invariably have to be changed radically,
simply because they are unbelievable.

However,
occasionally one encounters a true situation that cannot be changed
because its value lies in its outrageousness, but that is so
outrageous you can't reasonably expect anybody to believe it.

The
case of the six taipans is one of these, and all I can do to defend
it is to assert rather aggressively that if anyone cares to challenge
its veracity, I am prepared to produce witnesses.

I
was travelling around the Alligator River bordering Arnhem Land
researching the spread of feral animals in Australia when, as I often
do, I became lost one night.

Sighting
a camp fire I drove up to it to ask where I was and met a German
naturalist who was studying reptiles in the area. He was a great fat
middle-aged man, rather of my own physical stature, and spoke
excellent if rather formal English. His name was Hans and he had
something to do with a zoo or a museum in Germany.

I
spent the night at his camp and he told me of his ambition to take
some taipans back home. For some reason or other the taipan is highly
valued by Germans, who like to keep them in zoos. If you can land a
taipan alive in Germany you can get one or two thousand dollars for
it, I am told, but of course it is illegal to export them. They are a
protected species.

This
does not prevent unscrupulous dealers attempting to export them. I
once knew a man who tried to sail to Germany in his own yacht with a
cargo of one hundred taipans on board. He hoped to become a rich man
on arrival, although personally I think he would have created a glut
on the market. I never did find out what happened to him, and I
tremble to speculate.

Hans
had no such extravagant ambitions, but he did want a couple of
taipans. He had tried all the normal avenues to get permission, but
it just wasn't possible. No doubt if his zoo had written to an
Australian zoo and gone through the proper channels something could
have been arranged, but there wasn't time for that. Hans wanted the
glory of taking back the taipans himself
—
no
doubt his career would have prospered.

Now,
getting a taipan in Australia isn't difficult. You simply go into a
pub in taipan country and let it be known that you're willing to pay
$100 or so for one. Next thing you know half a dozen men are slipping
up to your hotel room and saying, 'Psst, want to buy a taipan, mate?'

I
mentioned this to Hans, just as a matter of interest, and he seemed
intrigued by the fact.

After
that the conversation passed into more general areas and we
discovered that we were both booked on the same flight out of Darwin
for Bali a couple of weeks later.

Appropriately
commenting on the coincidence, we agreed in meet in a Darwin hotel
the night before the aircraft departed. The following day, we each
went our separate ways.

I
got lost again, naturally, but only temporarily, and in due course
found myself back in Darwin for my flight to Denpasar. I remembered
my engagement with Hans and called at his hotel that evening. He
welcomed me with that enthusiasm that people demonstrate when they
are reunited with a chance traveller they have met in the wilderness,
sat me down with a scotch and excused himself for a few minutes while
he completed some business he had with the reception desk of the
hotel.

It is perhaps a perversion of mine to
like lots of ice with my whisky, and while Hans was away I went to
his refrigerator to get some ice. I opened I the freezer and, bless
my soul, there were six taipans gazing at me torpidly and very slowly
winding themselves around each other. I doubt that ever in the
history of man has a refrigerator door been shut so rapidly.

I
was so shocked that I sat down and drank my scotch without ice. Then
Hans came back into the room.

'Do
you know your refrigerator is full of deadly snakes?' I asked.

The
poor man went rigid. He stood stock still and the colour drained from
his face. I thought at first he must have seen it as an elaborate
plot to murder him, but then I realised he was shocked for a quite
different reason.

'How
did you find out?' he asked in horrified tones.

'You
mean you
knew
they
were there?'

'Of
course I knew they were there,' he said. 'I put them there. How else
do you think they got there?'

Well,
of course I couldn't answer that, so I just sat and gaped at him. He
walked across the room and leaned down and looked earnestly into my
face.

'I
must take you into my confidence,' he said hoarsely. 'I must ask you
to swear never to tell anybody about those snakes.'

Well,
if a man wants to keep poisonous snakes in his refrigerator, I feel
that it is entirely his own business, so I readily gave my word not
to mention the snakes to anybody.

But
then he went on to tell me how he had bought them and that he was
going to freeze them so that he could smuggle them out of the
country. It appears that, if you reduce a snake's body temperature
enough and keep it down, it goes into a coma from which you can
revive it simply by warming it up.

That
didn't worry me unduly. If this lunatic Teuton wanted to ship a box
full of frozen snakes out of the country, I suppose I disapproved on
general conservationist principles, but I'm not overfond of taipans
and half a dozen more or less on the Australian scene didn't matter
too much to me. However, I did feel obliged to point out to the
fellow that he would certainly have his luggage inspected at the
airport and the customs people would take a dim view of six frozen
taipans.

'That
I know,' said the German. 'Do you think I am stupid?'

I
did, but I wasn't going to say so. But what he said next took ten
years off my life.

'I
am going to carry them in my trouser legs,' he announced with a manic
gleam of triumph in his eyes.

'Eh?'
I said, which was really rather eloquent in the circumstances.

'In
my trouser legs,' he said. 'You understand, trousers?' He patted his
trousers.

'Yes,'
I said, 'I understand trousers. Do
you
understand that taipans are deadly
poisonous?'

'Of
course,' he said. 'But when they are frozen they do not bite. Look,
I'll show you.'

Then
the bloody man went to the refrigerator and flung open the door,
plunged his hand in and grabbed a snake. The thing made a sleepy sort
of attempt to bite him and he said
'
Ach
'
or
'
Donner
und Blitzen
' or something and
tossed it back and picked up another that had succumbed to the cold.

Then
he pulled open the top of his trousers and slid the thing head first
down his trouser leg. It was a bit too long to fit in so he curled
the tail over and tucked that in against his tummy. He pulled down
his shirt and looked at me with the happy expectation of a schoolboy
who has just demonstrated a card trick.

'You
see?' he said. 'Nobody would ever know it was there.'

It
was quite true. He had baggy trousers on and you couldn't see any
sign of the snake.

'But...
six of them?' I gasped.

'It
will be easy. Three in each leg. You want I should show you?'

'No!
No!' I cried. 'Please put that blasted thing back in the refrigerator
and get me some ice at the same time.'

He
pulled the snake out of his trouser leg and casually stuffed it back
with the others, considerately pushing one hissing reptile out of the
way to get me the ice cubes.

'Now
listen, friend,' I said firmly, when I had a lot more whisky
dampening my ice cubes. 'If just one of those bloody snakes wakes up
in the aeroplane, you're a dead man.'

'They
will not wake up,' he said confidently. 'I will get off in Denpasar
and ship them in an ordinary box to Germany. They do not have your
ridiculous customs laws in Indonesia. It only takes a short time to
fly from Darwin to Denpasar and they will stay asleep for at least
three hours and more likely four.'

You
can imagine how I felt at the prospect of getting into the same
aeroplane as a man with six taipans packed into his trouser legs, but
I was trapped. I had given my word not to mention those snakes to
anybody, and I do not take my own word lightly. Besides, the wretched
fellow was a scientist and presumably knew what he was talking about.

I
hoped to dear God that some customs officer would give him a body
search, although the effect on the officer of discovering six taipans
concealed like that might well have been fatal.

So
I just drank a lot more of the German's whisky and went off to bed.

Naturally
I kept a sharp eye out for Hans when I was boarding the plane the
next day, and I saw him sail through Customs and the security check
with a fixed Teutonic smile on his face, but nothing else to
distinguish him from the other passengers apart from the fact that,
to my mind, he was walking rather stiffly. No doubt everybody else
thought it was because of an old war wound.

He
was wearing those German trousers that you tuck into your socks, so
nothing could fall out. The snakes were presumably kept upright by
having their tails held by his underpants, which, because of his
paunch, would have been tight-fitting.

You
can guess the inevitable
—
I
found myself sitting next to the fellow. The aircraft was full and
there was no way I could change seats. As I said, he was a big man; I
am not small myself, and I kept finding my leg pressing against his.

I
swear I lost a stone in a matter of minutes, expecting every second
at least three sets of deadly fangs to pierce his trouser legs and
mine and sink into my flinching, precious flesh.

He
never said a word to me. He seemed a bit embarrassed by the fact that
I was sitting next to him, but that was understandable enough, so I
just sat through the first part of the flight in a state of mortal
terror trying to squeeze away from him and quite unable to take my
eyes off those trouser legs, which seemed to my anguished eyes to be
constantly squirming and bulging.

Suddenly
the German gave a grunt of pain and leaned forward, clutching his
stomach.

'Oh,
my God!' I thought. This was the time to break my word, and I started
waving for a hostess, even in that moment of tension wondering in
what terms I should inform her that my fellow passenger had been
bitten by a taipan in his trousers.

But
the German grabbed me by the arm. 'No,' he said, 'it is nothing.
Something I ate. An internal disorder. I must go to the toilet.' He
stood up and pressed past me and made his way down the length of the
aircraft to the toilets. I watched him in utter horror, but I
couldn't even bear to imagine how he was going to manage to use the
toilet and cope with six snakes.

He
stayed in the toilet for a good ten minutes, and then came out
looking very ill. I could see that his face was quite white and he
was staggering a little. He got about halfway down the aisle and fell
flat on his face.

Naturally
a couple of hostesses ran to help him, so I leaped out of my seat and
rushed down the aisle shouting, 'No! No! Don't touch that man, he's
full of taipans!'

Of
course the hostesses found this a fairly incomprehensible statement,
but by then I was standing over the fallen German anxiously waiting
for taipans to pop out of the top of his pants and was waving
everyone back shouting, 'He's got taipans in his trousers, I tell
you! Taipans in his trousers!'

Then
the German sat up and looked at me reproachfully. 'You gave me your
word,' he said.

'I
know I did,' I said. 'But, damn it, man, there comes a time. .
.you've been bitten. The damn things are awake. They'll be all over
the plane in a minute.'

'Nonsense,'
said the German. 'I have diarrhoea, that is all.'

By
now the hostesses had called the captain or the co-pilot or whoever
it was and he was not unreasonably demanding to know what the hell
was going on.

Trying
to appear as sane as I could, I explained that this man had six
taipans in his trousers and I had reason to suppose he had been
bitten. The passengers within several rows heard all this, of course,
and were looking on with considerable interest and some trepidation.