A couple of weeks after the fall of Singapore to the Allies, Jim Baxter and Yours Truly went
ashore in the search of a drop of liquid refreshment. But sad to say this commodity was scarcer
than hen's teeth and after an hour or so of thirsty searching, with not a drop in sight, we
decided to swallow our sorrow with a cup of char in Raffles Hotel which to the intense
annoyance of the Colonial upper crust had been turned into a forces canteen, but sad to sat
they were also short of the Golden Gargle.
Just as we rounded the corner the biggest matelot we'd ever seen staggered up to us. Not
only was he drunk as a skunk, he was also nursing two lovely bottles of liquid paradise.
Coming to a bleary eyed stop in front of us he demanded to know if we'd seen a `bar
steward' of a stoker who had apparently nicked some of his beer. He then proceeded to
explain how he was going to spread the said stoker all over Singapore if only he could catch
up with him. Quick as a flash Baxter jumped in and said, "Look mate, you'll never catch him
while you're carrying those bottles of beer as you will only drop them." The giant weighed
Baxter up who then continued, "Give us the bottles to hold while you catch this bloke and
we'll take good care of them for you." Thanking us profusely, he handed over the bottles and
staggered off.
Hardly believing our good fortune we galloped off in the opposite direction, and after finding
a shady spot to sit we made sure the beer was safely taken care of,
For the next two or three runs ashore we made sure we didn't bump into our friend, by
taking the precaution of peeping round every corner first. Who was it who said, "You can
never trust a sailor"? If that matelot ever reads this story I can only say, "Sorry mate, but our
need was greater than thine."
Another Thirsty Stoker.
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