13. Impression management.

Wild Bill woke to the smell of toast. Now that he and Neil were back to the bachelor life (Bill’s wife and son were still in Port Headland), they had returned to the domestic routine established by years on the track. Neil, who never missed a sunrise, always prepared the breakfast - four slices of toast with plum jam and a cup of tea. At first Wild Bill had objected to this arrangement because of the element of servitude but gave up on it when he realized Neil wouldn’t be happy any other way. 

He gave up on trying to change the menu for the same reason. 

The kitchenette was empty of course. Wild Bill new that Neil would be outside somewhere building or rebuilding a net as a kind of morning meditation. Wild Bill didn’t know much about meditation but he sure could’ve used some right now. A gnawing discomfort agitated in his stomach and he knew exactly what it was. Tonight he was going to be tested.

He knew the eyes of all the skippers and crews would be on him when he led the fleet for the first time. The eighty odd boats of the company fleet and sixty odd independents were waiting to see if this big-time blow-in on his fancy mother-ship could walk the walk.

He was wondering about that himself. The Gulf of Carpentaria is a hundred and sixteen thousand square miles of water. Somehow he had to find prawns, and he hadn’t so much as wet a net yet.

This was tiger-prawn season and the fishing’s done at night. He had given the skippers the drill about how to proceed once prawns were found. They all had their positions port, starboard and astern - all very practical but for Wild Bill – all very theoretical. The skippers who’d been kissing up to him for good positions had given him good information about the most likely areas for prawns but after that he was on his own.

He finished his breakfast without remembering a single bite and went to find his brother.

Outside the last stragglers on the dawn shuffle were making their way back to their own beds. Neil had never seen so many early-risers. The position of the accommodation meant they were smack bang in the middle of the four centres of infidelity – the single-women’s quarters, the single men’s-quarters, the wharf and the caravan park. His cheerful nature required him to wave when he recognized a face and he was perplexed that everyone seemed to be busy examining the ground. 

Minge Kerrigan hurrying from the wharf towards the single women’s quarters, anxious to avoid Neil's wave, bumped into Esky Ellis who was stumbling from the caravan park to the wharf. Toothpaste Lucy was on her way back to the caravan park from the single-men’s quarters. To avoid eye-contact with Minge and Esky she had to loiter by Wild Bill’s gate.

“Good morning,” said Wild Bill.

1969 was the year that the Canadian sociologist Erving Goffman (1922 – 1982) published Strategic interaction, not so much a definition of a natural law as an analysis of the way we act with each other. He came up with the term “impression management” and the notion that having a conversation with someone is actually a theatrical performance where you play both actor and audience. 

A Goffman conversation is a situation where each tries to give a good impression of herself to the other as an actor and to assess the other’s acting performance as an audience.

Toothpaste Lucy’s problem was that she couldn’t think of a credible storyline for being there at that time – aside from the truth – I’ve just been over the single-men’s quarters fucking the new electrician.

Not that anyone had asked.

The problem was compounded by Neil’s insistence on winning the attention of Minge and Esky.

“Hello, hello,” he said.

Now that these two were drafted into the play the complexities were exponential. An ensemble cast of five, on a limited stage, with no props was being challenged to improvise some socially acceptable script.

1969 was not a great year for the performing arts - the academy awards nominations for best picture: Oliver (Mark Lester), Funny Girl (Barbara Streisand), The Lion in Winter (Peter O’Toole), Rachel Rachel (Joanne Woodward) and  Romeo and Juliet (Leonard Whiting, Olivia Hussey).

Minge Kerrigan was no Olivia Hussey. She was in a panic. She’d just come from the Costa Rica and a night of passion with Toothpaste Lucy’s boyfriend, Back-ache Barry. He'd told Lucy he had to stay on board to lag a pipe. 

Minge was grateful when Esky offered up an opening line.

“Beautiful day,” he said.

“Oh yes,” said Minge. “I love it first thing in the morning.”

“You fucking bitch,” said Toothpaste Lucy and they began to fight.

Wild Bill and Neil decided to head for the relative sanity of the boat.