Codes of Survival -Scripts - a series of short factionalized stories based
on historical events in the Subantarctic Islands written by Lloyd Godman
to accompany the exhibition and installation - 1993 - © Lloyd Godman
Codes of
Survival - Scripts
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1983 - DEVILS FROM THE DEEP
We'd been down there about a week. The weather and the cruise had'nt
been too bad actually, cause we'd been told it can get rough at times. Though, I shouldn't imagine it could get much worse than some of the storms we'd been in south of Stewart Island  . We'd seen some wicked stuff pound through there in the last few years. Some of that stuff would really put the shits up you at different times.
The boat was at Sandy Bay  and we'd got a good anchor down and then
managed to get into the two huts to stay, which made living better than on
the boat. We wern't supposed to be anywhere near the place as you need
some kind of permit thing from the official bods that run the show, but we
thought we could bluff it if we'd been caught. We'd meant to be after fish
and testing some samples of those dam big crabs around there, but really it
was the islands that were the real buzz for all of us. Kirk had some really
wicked smoke and we'd been hoot'in it up all week. The island wasn't that
bad to walk around and we'd been to most of the good spots in no time. Kirk
had his 202 and we'd spent a lot of time shooting rabbits. There's so many and ther'e so tame that ya just walk up and blow them away. We had this
contest to see who could bowl over the most. Kirk won most days. God it was great fun! Ther'e bloody tuff to eat though when we'd try to cook the odd
one. Thought we'd have a go at one of those old cows on the island for
something different, could'ave done with a fresh steak each. Ther'e probably as tough as old boots any way, but never quite got around to it.
Nic new something of the history of the place and we'd spend the nights
gett'in wasted and soaking up these ship wreck stories and things. Shit it was
scary stuff man. They must 'ave had a hell of a time eating nothing but raw
birds and fish for years. Well one night just before we left, we'd been at it again and were really away; gett'in into these stories of them dying of starvation
in the hills, bad storms, the General Grant's gold'  , death at the ship wreck
sites and other things. Well, I had to go out for a piss cause we'd been
having a few beers as well, and sort of wandered off into the forest for
a good spot. It was really mind blowing as there was a good wind and the
trees were whipping about in the torch light. It looked really spacey man,
with lots of unreal patterns and weird shadows everywhere I shone the
torch. I sort of got carried away and kept walking for awhile spacing out
on the on this light in the trees. Thought I'd be alright as long as I could see
the sky through the opening in the trees to the ocean.
I was really gett'in into this tree thing and suddenly there was a great roar and
fuck I just dropped the torch as this great black shape crashed through the
trees towards me. The bloody torch light had gone out and I couldn't see
a thing, just this great noise rarking up in the bush beside me. I'm sure it was
a seal lion now, but at the time with me being wasted and that it could have
been anything. First I thought it was some sort of monster or something
and I just took off in any direction as fast as I could. I got away from the noise
but had lost the torch and I couldn't see a bloody thing in the dark. I couldn't recognise the bush around me either and was starting to think I was lost.
Shit, what a place to be lost! In the Darkness, the winds and trees  were
doing weird things to my head and I started thinking of dead castaways
creeping about. Like Nic had reckoned there were heaps that had died
right near here, and shit I was scared. Every gust of wind sent the trees going with their rustle and creaking. Somewhere ahead came a kind of high pitched squawking from the bush, it was probably a penguin,
but it only made things worse. When we'd been out at the other end of the island I'd ripped off the
metal plaque from this wooden tomb where there had been a ship wreck and heaps of them had drowned trying to get to shore. Nic reckoned they'd had
a hell of a time and the ones that were washed up had the eyes pecked out.
They had all had no food and when they had got to the store on another island some of them had tried to rip of the food from the others. Any way, I'd
got this plaque thing back into the fishing boat without anyone knowing and
had it stashed away to take home for a souvenir of the trip. I use to do the
same with those A.A. signs back home when we went somewhere new.
I had Milford Sound, Bluff  , Gore and even Queenstown when we'd been
there once. I also had an amazing collection of car badges too, like Mercedez Benz, the lot. Anyway, this one off the grave was quite a new one and big
too. It sort of said about the ship that had sunk and fifteen of them had
drowned around 20 March 1887 . Well, we'd landed about the 20 th
of March and I reckoned their fucken ghosts had the whole thing planned
from the start.
Well, I just thought the ghosts from that bloody grave had come for me. They were screaming like fuck and their faces were coming out of the dark and
shooting away again into the trees. I found this bank that dropped down to a stream and jumped down to hide from it all. I had this swiss army knife I had
been given by Janice for xmas and I sat there hunched up with about four
blades drawn, waiting in the dark. I waited for bloody ages man, shit it was
so scary. the faces were still coming but they couldn't seem to find me. All the commotion and chaos I had started seemed to increase as there were roars, squawking and those bloody trees waving around coming from all directions.
It was coming from all over the place now. It just seemed to keep coming
till I couldn't take it any more so I jumped forward and away like a shot.
Shit, I started running as fast as I could. More times than I can remember
I kept tripping up and crashing to the ground or hitting trees. I just ran like
hell, like it was worse than the cops chasing you after you'd done a job.
Then the bush changed and was hell to get through as it scratched the shit
out of me. It was as crappier bit of bush as I've ever been through.
I started thinking about those late night movies we'd seen in Christchurch 
years ago. You know, the scary jobs like Dracula and Frankenstein and
that. We'd spent a whole winter going to as many as we could, even the
ones that started at midnight. They were always the best. Suddenly there was devils from the deep, castaway ghosts, Dracula; the lot were after me.
Every horror movie I had ever seen had come to life.
My heart was going something wicked. Werewolfs, goblins, witches,
giant spiders christ I was shitting myself. It was me and one swiss army knife against the hoards from hell. The knarly trees were like something from
Lord of the Rings and slowly they to started to laugh at me while slowly
turning into zombies that started chasing the shit pout of me too. There were
old sea men in nothing but seal skins ripped and torn and as thin as fuck
in the face. They came straight out of the blackness with screams and
laughs as cold as hell.
Christ it was gett'in out of hand. I was cut and bleeding, the undergrowth
attacked me with each new step, It just got worse and worse. I kept tripping
up as well and crashing down banks. I would fall in a heap and be on my feet
in a flash as I thought those bastards would get me once I was down. The
larger branches hurt when I hit them and I was at least glad there were no
real big trees in this part of the forest or I could have really knocked the shit
out of myself. Then I lost the knife and really thought I was a goner; there
was noise and chaos all round as everywhere I went there were more high
pitch squawks and every now and then great roars and barks from the
seal monsters. I just seemed to set them going as I crashed on. Christ,
it was inches from death stuff man.
I just knew I couldn't last much longer at this rate, the old ticker was
going like fuck.
And I somehow jumped through bushes like a mad man in any direction.
The next thing I knew I crashed out through the bush onto the grass area
about 200 meters from the hut and it was all gone. Just seemed to vanish
into thin air, apart from the odd squawk and that. God it was a fucken
wicked night, I was alive but absolutely stuffed. I stood there on the grass for awhile till I got some breath back before I went back to the hut.I never
told the others about it when I got back to the hut and they never asked.
I thought they might ask about the rips in my clothes, and scratches to
my face. Shit I was covered in dirt to. But they were to wasted to say much anyway.
We hauled our arse out of the place next afternoon and I've never been
back. Christ she's a fucken scary place alright. Christ knows what
happened to the torch and the knife, but I threw that bastard of a plaque
over the side into the sea on the way home without anyone seeing.
Those dam ghosts can have the fucken thing back cause it
won't be going into my souvenir collection.
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