The Balance Of Power And The Hat

Captain Louttit, Wally and Goose sit in their blue Seahorse World canoe, on the calm surface of the Lake St Clair Lagoon.

Black currawongs fly this way and that overhead, trilling: Wee-wee-ha!

Who's going to paddle? asks Goose.

It can't be us, says Wally. It'll have to be Captain ....no, not Captain..... it'll have to be Louttit.

Captain Louttit regrets giving up the captaincy so easily.

If I'm to paddle, says Captain Louttit, and you are not going to paddle, I shall resume the title of Captain.

Point of order, says Goose.

I know, says Captain Louttit. I have no captain's hat. But these things happen at sea. We must improvise.

Improvise, says Wally. What does that mean?

Use whatever is to hand, says Captain Louttit. For example, these seahorse postcards could be folded. Does anyone......?

No. No one knows how to make a captain's hat.

Remember that shrimp? says Wally. He thought me and Goose were hats.

Of course! cries Captain Louttit. Problem solved! Who'd like the honour? Or will you take turns?

If only Captain Louttit had not made that last suggestion. The idea of self-determined turns is not consistent with autocratic leadership.

We'll all take turns being captain, says Goose. And turns at being hats.

Wait a minute, says Captain Louttit. I can't take a turn as a hat.

I'll be Wally's hat when he's captain, says Goose. And he'll be my hat when I am. Since you, Louttit, can't pull your weight hat-wise, you'll do all the paddling.

How galling. Something seems wrong with this reasoning. But what is it? Louttit has little choice but to agree.

Goose is elected first Captain. Wally climbs onto his head.

This is good, says Wally.

Silence, hat! Full steam ahead, Mr Louttit! says Captain Goose.

Mr Louttit starts paddling slowly, towards the head of the Derwent.

Black currawongs dart to and fro overhead, trilling mockingly : Wee-wee-ha!

...........

We must be pragmatic, says Gaius. Captain Louttit knows where we're going.

You think he has gone on ahead? asks Schopenhauer.

A black currawong flies over. He would laugh if he understood German-accented English. Gone on a head!
Wee-wee-ha!

.......

Half an hour later they reach Derwent Bridge, and follow the highway to Wall in the Wilderness, which has already closed for the day.

They are just turning away when a man in a leather hat appears, with woodworking tools, and a key.

Evening, says the man. Sorry we're closed.

But you're going in, says Schopenhauer.

It's my Wall, says the man in the hat.