Old-walrus

Me, I play hard but I play fair, Vanessa. I don’t poach other folks’ fish – that’s why Ben and I are up here on Eighty Mile Beach with a contract for oysters and a licence from the Fisheries Department. And I don’t start fights, though too right, I can look after myself if anyone starts anything with me. And you aren’t the only kid with ancestors, Vanessa. Some of my folks came from Greece, and if you were a Greek sponge diver, if you couldn’t work at forty fathoms you weren’t fit to wipe a real sponge diver’s arse. That’s about seventy-five metres and that’s what I’m aiming at next. The fact is, when I came out to West Oz I thought you were the toughest thing around and I didn’t know how you did it. Well, you’re still tough, but I’m as good as you now, and I’m getting better. OK, I might go the same way as plenty of good mates, but if I don’t I’ll be a bloody good diver. I don’t do stupid challenges and competitions, but you just look at me and see what I’m doing. Let me tell you why