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Poldark.

Episode 376 :- in which Ross gets Demeleza 'up the D'Urville'

'Urr, Cap'n Poldark, Surr!". With a resigned smile Ross Poldark put down the wrong he was righting and gave his attention to the speaker. Judd Painter, the faithful family retainer, was clearly agitated. The youthful, lanky fellow normally wore a vacuous, idiotic grin over his baby-soft cheeks, but in the muted glow of the candle Ross could see that Judd was frowning and anxious as he strained to understand the big words on the map spread out before him.

It had been a trying journey which had brought Ross and his party to this primitive mountain hut, where they now waited for Prudy to prepare the evening meal, a simple, but wholesome steak casserole, followed by Cornish pasties. Ross had been reflecting over the events of the last few days. He winced as he recalled the perils of their sea-passage from the other island, and then the reckless, mad coach ride to St Arnaud. And he shuddered as his mind went back to that nightmare scramble up Speargrass Creek in the cruel darkness; and the terror of finding himself lost in the boggy badlands ofthe Howard Basin. At least today hadn't been so bad. The D'Urville valley had proved, like Demelza, to be both beautiful and easy. And those Shakespearian recitations by the shores of Rotoroa had held the team spellbound. Now they were at Ella Hut, poised for the great push over the pass and down into the West Branch of the Sabine.

It was with no small measure of pride that Ross recalled the achievements of himself and his companions. Himself excepted, they were simple, honest...well, let's say simple..country folk.He studied each of them in turn as they slouched around the hut, or went about their humble tasks.

There was Prudy, thoughtfully picking her beard as she tossed another packet of dehyde veg into the pot. Crude, lewd, short and pudgy, she was ideally suited as Judd's wife. Her most endearing characteristic was the way she dribbled out a continous stream of inanities in her sleep, although she denied this with typical Cornish self-effacement.

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Dr Dwight Enys stood with his back to the fire. He was a quiet unassuming man of action. But he was tall and strong and he moved through the forest quickly and competently. Enys didn't say much but he always managed to laugh at the others' jokes, no mean achievement.

The Captain of Dragoons was sitting in the doorway, wringing an impressive volume of water from his socks. Another lanky fellow, this man's presence was vital to the comfort and safety of the party. For on his person he carried the ultimate weapon in their feud with the Warleggens. Yes, this man had been charged with the sacred task of wearing the wonder-puttees, a duty he discharged with courage and resourcefulness. They lay around his otherwise naked ankles now, wet glistening nylon, symbols of potency, a triumph of Porirua engineering and ingenuity.

Ross gazed now at his wife, the lovely Demelza. With her six foot four inch frame and her crotchless rugby shorts she was both demure and dazzling. For two days she had blazed the way through the sodden bush with the consummate grace of a Clydesdale. Her soft and seductive West-country accent, testament to her humble Remuera origins, stillsent clammy shivers of erotic expectation through Ross's manly body.

"Cap'n, Surr," Judd called again. Ross knew that Judd was still suffering crises of guilt over last night's instant pudding and had assumed that he wished to apologise once more. But not so. The tremors of anxiety in his voice suggested something more than a simple confession of cullinary ineptitude. "Ee baint garn over Moss Parss tomorrow are 'ee, Cap'n?" the rustic finally blurted out.

"Shurrup 'e silly ol' fool or I'll kick 'e teeth in," Demelza interrupted coyly. Ross leapt onto the table, and reaching up, in an authoritative way broke her nose with his open fist, a gentle indication that he wished her to keep out of it. (It was essential to preserve unity at this, as indeed at all, stages of the trip).

"Yes we must" he said to Judd, and patiently explained why. The reasons were manifold and compelling; good weather, good snow, and the ignomity of retreat were prominentamong them.

"There is one great danger though" said the Captain of the Dragoons. It was not the first time that he had insinuated his way page 9into the conversation. "What's that?" queried Ross, annoyed that there was something he hadn't thought of. These smart young bastards were always trying to undermine his authority. "Well, sir" said the Captain of the Dragoons, "that wily scoundrel Waghorn, arch lackey for the Warleggans, and his bunch of thugs may be lying in wait for us at Blue Lake" . "Damn" thought Ross to himself,'Why didn't I think of that?". The Waghorn crowd were well known for their abusive bad-temperedess and vicious tramping techniques.

"I had already given this some consideration" lied Ross convincingly, " and I've decided that we just have to take the risk." Ross's strong features were set firm. Those shaking hands, that decisive waver in his voice, left the others in no doubt as to who was in charge. They nodded in silent agreement. Moss Pass was all on.

Together they ate their meal. Dr Enys had thoughtfully extinguished the candle so they could dine in the light of the wonder-puttees. It was perfectly safe as long as they wore their sunglasses. Demelza playfully threw rolled-up balls of instant potato round the hut, catching them as they bounced off the walls, but the others restrained themselves from joining in the frivolity. They had more serious things on their minds. Ross looked about him. The party was quiet but committed. Efficiently they made preparations for bed. Within minutes the hut was dark, and silent save for the odd unpleasant histrionic effect emanating from Judd's sleeping bag, and a never-ceasing concert of snores, moans, giggles and whines from Prudy's corner.

"What a lotta crap," thought Ross, shortly before a fitful sleep overcame him.

The cast, in order of appearance:

Judd Painter was played by Geoff Gilman, Prudy by Rob Smith, Dr Enys by Dirk Catsburg, the Captain of Dragoons by Dennis Clark, Demelza by Tim Barton, and Captain Poldark played mostly with himself.

K.T.