The secret diary of . . . Shipwreck Chippy
Shipwreck Chippy surveyed his few remaining crew, sprawled out on their raft. The great storm of October 14 was fast, violent, and traumatic, a blue tide that rose over their pathetic red ship and swept many of the crew out to sea, never to be seen again.
The loss of life was heavy. The loss of morale was profound. The loss of quite a few of the planks that formed their raft was certainly cause for concern, but none of this seemed to bother Shipwreck Chippy, who wore a big smile on his face and lipstick traces on his collar.
“Well, crew,” he boomed. “Exciting news. We’re going to hold the Shipwreck Regatta!”
They looked at him with darkringed eyes and sallow faces. Many of the crew had lost hope. Many had lost faith. But even though few did anything to improve matters before or since the storm, none of them had lost their salaries.
“The Shipwreck Regatta,” continued Shipwreck Chippy, “is our chance to see who can build the raft which has the least chance of sinking.”
As motivational speeches go, it wasn’t exactly a rousing classic. This was his intention. As captain of the crew, Shipwreck Chippy was desperate to hold on to his position, and dent the confidence of any potential challengers.
“You will note,” he boomed, “that my raft has kept us afloat. It survived the great storm of October 14.”
“Hardly,” muttered one of the crew.
“Barely,” hissed another.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” shouted Shipwreck Chippy. He said the regatta would be held in Upper Hutt, which by sheer coincidence was his home port, and the winner would be decided by a secret ballot.
“Whatever,” groaned the mutterer and the hisser, in unison.
TUESDAY
Shipwreck Chippy won the Shipwreck Regatta possibly due to the fact that none of the crew had the energy or the vision or the skill to build a competing raft.
Even so, it was rumoured he won by a narrow margin.
WEDNESDAY
“We must be bold,” Shipwreck Chippy told the crew. “We must act with courage. We must stand by our principles. We must condemn injustices.”
He was asked where he stood on the situation in Palestine.
He said he would need to pass any comment on the Middle East past Christopher Luxon.
THURSDAY
Shipwreck Chippy sailed his raft to a cove. Repairs could wait. The year was nearly over. The thing that the crew needed most, he knew, was rest. They had lost everything. At least, he thought, they had nothing left to lose.
FRIDAY
Shipwreck Chippy was alerted to the odd behaviour of one of the crew.
“Which one?” he asked. “Helen White,” he was told. “Who’s she?”
Some of the crew, brooded Shipwreck Chippy, had lost all sense of reality. Photo / Alex Burton “Well may you ask.” Shipwreck Chippy found her giving an interview, and saying that her performance during the October 14 storm was outstanding. This was news to Shipwreck Chippy. She had one job — to tie a red flag to the mast — but she seemed to spend most of the storm trying to tie a flag with a picture of herself to the mast.
“You guys are really going for me. Is there any particular reason?” White said to journalists, who asked whether she came close to the very definition of a total loser. “I didn’t do badly. I did really, really well. I’m really, really proud of myself.”
Some of the crew, brooded Shipwreck Chippy, had lost all sense of reality.